Dissonance
by Mortissues
Summary: I haven't so much made a success of myself as simply fallen through the cracks in my life and somehow landed buttered side up. I am toast. The fifty percent lucky slice that you rescue from your kitchen counter and shove in your mouth as you run out the door, breathless and late, to start your new day.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 1 Runners and Riders**

I met him in college.

When my roommate started dating his older brother.

He was a player. And not of the musical instrument variety.

You could sort of understand how he got away with it. He was absolutely gorgeous. Deep green eyes, smooth skin, full lips, wide shoulders, wicked abs, long legs, biteable ass, ludicrously attractive yet ill behaved bronze hair. He was also funny, charming, kind and attentive. He might have been smiling at every other female in a fifty mile radius when he was talking to you, but boy did you know you were being talked to.

He made little old me more popular than I should have been, all the girls wanted to be friends with Edward's one and only 'platonic' female friend.

He spent our years at college, while Rose and Emmett were falling in love and defiling every horizontal surface, good naturedly trying to get into my panties.

I may have let him a time or two.

You only live once after all and even my natural inhibitions were surprisingly easy to overcome when it came to Edward Cullen. Besides, if you'd seen him in those days, frankly it would have been rude not to.

But at Rose and Em's lavish wedding a year after graduation, I decided it was time to grow up and grow out of my, albeit infrequently indulged, 'friends with benefits' phase. After one last valedictory romp of course.

His Mom, lovely woman, caught me coming out of his room the morning after. I think she was disappointed in me. I was ecstatic, practise makes perfect as the saying goes, and Suaveward had certainly been getting _plenty_ of that.

...

"Bella Swan!" A velvet voice growls.

I spin round, huge smile on my face.

"Edward Cullen. You don't get any uglier with age do you?"

"I have a wrinkle." He chuckles, pointing to one of his sparkling green eyes.

"That's a laugh line." I huff, cuffing him good naturedly in the well defined chest area.

Any excuse, the man is still ridiculously hot.

"So where is she then?"

"She?" He asks, feigning ignorance.

"She. The woman who tamed Edward Cullen."

"Ah, that she. Alice has dragged her off to examine the contents of her closet."

"Nice." I snigger.

Poor Tanya. Edward and Em's very little sister Alice makes up for in forceful personality what she lacks in height. She once even got me to go to a party dressed as a Bunny Girl, Rose is the only person I've known successfully resist her, but that's probably because Rose is a blonde Amazon and Alice has always been a little in awe of her.

"Mom sent me to find you, Dad's home and she's opening the wine, ready for a glass?" Edward enquires.

"Always." I affirm, letting him guide me into the Cullen's massive and frankly glorious kitchen. I could live in here, not cook though, because unlike Edward's Mom, Esme, I can't even boil noodles without creating a radioactive monster that would rampage across the world if allowed to escape.

The kitchen is occupied by the lady herself and her very fine husband, damn that man ages well . . . .

"Hi Bella." He greets me with a smack on the lips and Esme slaps his butt.

Doctor Carlisle Cullen is precisely where Edward gets his success with the ladies from.

"Sorry Bella." Esme chuckles. "Down Carlisle!"

"Yes ma'am." He laughs, laying another one on me before skipping out of reach of Esme's rapidly approaching palm.

I absolutely flove this family.

"Edward dear." Esme murmurs, handing me a brimming glass of white wine. "Go and rescue Tanya before Alice fries her brain."

I open my mouth to speak but it's a wasted effort as two huge arms wrap around my torso, lifting me off the ground with ease.

"Cyggers!" Em roars in my ear. "You're already here!"

Esme grabs my wine glass before the contents are splattered all over the kitchen and Em swings me like a cat.

"Can't . . . . fucking . . . . sorry Esme . . . . breathe . . . . Em."

"Pfft." He snorts, setting me back on my feet and very kindly using his bulk to stop me falling over. "You're so puny."

"Emmett." Esme remonstrates, handing him a beer and me my wine back. "Cut it out. We don't want a repeat of the Great Birthday fiasco."

Ah, the memories. It was Alice's birthday and since we were all in college together at the time there was no free pass. We were horrendously drunk and Em decided to see if he could swing a cat in this very kitchen. He didn't have a cat so he swung me instead. We took out two light fittings and the oven door, and when he finally put me down I vomited into Esme's two hundred year old fruit bowl.

"Where's Mr Cyggers?" Em demands.

"Jake's in Karachi." I remind him. "You know this."

"Yeah, saw his by-line in last Sunday's supplement, just checking you knew where he was."

"Don't start." I warn him.

"My lips are sealed Cyggers." He says, making a zipper motion across them. "I'm a man, I couldn't possibly comment on whether or not the guy is attending to your needs or relationship when he's never here."

"He's a foreign correspondent Em." I sigh with long standing patience. "Which part of that is it that you still don't get?"

"Are you insulting my husband's intelligence again?" Rose drawls, appearing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

"I certainly am." I squeal, leaping into her now outstretched arms.

To know Rose is to love her. To not know Rose is to be extremely afraid of her, they didn't call her The Ice Pick Princess in college for nothing.

...

Dinner is a raucous and wine fuelled affair and I can't help but admire Tanya.

This is the first time she's met all the Cullens and though she has all the self possession you'd expect of a beautiful patrician blonde with a Harvard law degree she copes with the insanity wonderfully, even if she doesn't quite join in.

She probably needs a bit of time to get used to them.

...

"My fucking head." I groan, collapsing over the marble counter in the kitchen. "Who switched the sun up to maximum wattage?"

"I don't know." Edward moans from his collapsed position beside me. "But I'll kick his ass if I find him. I think I'm dying."

"Shouldn't you know?" Alice's husband asks from the other side of the counter. "You are a Doctor."

"I'm a Veterinarian Jasper." Edward objects weakly. "Race horses don't get hangovers all that often."

"Maybe if I was a horse your infernal family wouldn't inflict these hangovers on _me_." Jasper complains. "I'm never drinking again."

"You said that last time." I point out without raising my head.

"And the time before." Edward reminds him.

"We're pathetic." Jasper decides. "And this marble is so cool on my forehead, Esme's a genius."

I'd always assumed Edward didn't drink much because it would hinder his ability to make whoopee with the ladies but it turned out the poor man was the only Cullen without a cast iron constitution and hollow legs, Alice, Esme, Em and Carlisle are probably out playing squash or something.

"Where is everyone?" I ask when I finally summon up the ability to get a glass of water.

"They went for a walk on the beach." Edward croaks, not moving an inch.

"Nice." I murmur, settling back onto my stool.

"Shhhh." Jasper chides. "Can we not just suffer in silence while we've got the chance?"

...

The weekend is over too soon, all of us heading back to our lives.

Rose and I are stretched out on the back seat of Em's SUV while he drives me to the airport.

"I liked Tanya." She observes idly.

"She was nice." I agree. "Which is a good job if she's going to be your sister in law."

"Steady on." Em interjects. "Just because she's his longest serving girlfriend, and the only one he's ever brought home, doesn't mean he's going to marry her."

"He's gotta give up and settle down sometime." I point out.

"There's life in the old dog yet." Em asserts with misplaced pride.

"Life?" Rose snorts. "He ought to be exhausted by now and ready to hang up his dick, assuming he hasn't already worn it down to a short stub."

"Ew." I groan, taking a swig from my bottle of water. "Anyway, I liked her and I thought she coped with the insanity that is the Cullens, no offence Em, rather well."

"She didn't do bad." Rose concedes. "She was more worried about meeting you."

"Me? What on earth for?"

"Well now let me see." Rose laughs, checking off her fingers. "You're beautiful. You're smart. You're rich. You're famous. You're a part of the family and you're one of the few girls, other than her, that Suaveward's boinked more than once."

"Boinked?" I snort.

"Yeah." Em laughs. "Since when did you start using euphemisms my Thorny Blossom?"

"It's for Bella." She says airily. "She might be all hot and badass these days but she still reacts like Pavlov's Dog and flushes up if anyone mentions fucking."

A pause.

"See."

"Thank you Rose." I growl as heat floods my cheeks.

"No problem. Build you up, knock you down, its how I roll."

...

It's late when I finally make it back to the city and the apartment I share with Jake.

The view is, according to my realtor, 'to die for'. But I never look out of the windows, I'm pretty much never here in daylight and lights are just lights. Jake loves it though.

I'm not ready for bed so I grab a beer from the fridge, no one here to judge my choice, and flop out on the saggy couch in my study. If I sit with my back to the 'panoramic urban cityscape' I can almost kid myself I'm back in my bedroom in Phoenix.

Almost. The end wall of my study is upholstered in a rich chocolate suede which my interior designer assured me is the 'must have accent wall covering'.

...

I get up at six every morning to work out in my home gym.

I hate working out, it makes me sweaty and tired but at least it means I can eat junk food and wear sharply tailored clothes. I used to have a personal trainer come round twice a week to make sure I was hitting my milestones but I had to give him up, in the end.

At seven thirty my driver collects me. His name is Demetri, he brings me my favourite coffee but he won't talk to me as he drives because apparently it's unprofessional. And I'm in the office by eight thirty at the latest.

I love my office. It looks like many a CEO's office but contains hidden secrets . . . . nothing exciting, just rows and rows of hidden bookshelves so I can free my mind into the land of fiction every once in a while. And a bathroom that's almost as big as the house I grew up in. And a closet that's not much smaller. Alice loves my office too but I'm not sure we're appreciating the same things.

And just outside my office is Charlotte's assistant, Lauren. I don't like Lauren but nevertheless she ensures my day runs like clockwork and if I needed diapers I'm pretty sure she'd change them without complaint. Maybe that's why I don't like her, I don't know . . . .

...

God this meeting is boring.

I stifle a yawn and study the notes they've given me.

The words jumble together and my brain threatens to take a hike.

"So we're projecting four percent growth?" My assistant Charlotte asks, kicking me under the table to get my attention.

"Yes Ms Whitlock."

Charlotte, or Char to her friends, is married to Jasper's 'little' brother Pete. We're an incestuous lot the extended Cullen clan. She looks like a centrefold and acts like Gordon Gekko. Most men don't know whether to screw her or run for their lives. Fortunately Pete is not most men and they've been happily married for a while now. In fact she's pregnant, not that they're telling anyone yet. I only know because if you look up efficient in the dictionary it has a picture of Char next to it and according to her I should already be looking for a replacement.

"That's it?" Char snarls.

There's some blanching, I rather like the blanching.

"It does seem a _little_ low." I muse quietly.

And in an instant they've gone from blanching to mild panic.

Go me . . . .

...

"They'll never hit eight percent organic growth." I grumble to Char as we head down in the elevator later.

"I doubt it, but now they're highly motivated to try." She chuckles. "I reckon they'll hit six."

I nod, that was my assessment too.

"Lunch?" She queries as we ding and hit the first floor.

"Pizza?" I ask, perking up.

"You are an _extremely_ lame plutocrat." She huffs as we clack across the lobby in our heels.

"We've been through this before." I sigh. "I am not smoking cigars, drinking cognac, joining a gentleman's club _or_ wearing a waistcoat with a pocket watch."

**A/N So, I'm off again, and on a new path this time, hope you enjoy it!**

**Also starting out with important thanks;**

**To Ed Mazin and the awesome TLS ladies for making a sneak peek out of this story.**

**And to Christag Banners for the brilliant banner she's created for it. And which I am hoping I can manage to upload . . .**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 2 Livin' La Vi****da Loca**

**BPOV**

"I am not wearing that!" I object.

"Why not?" My personal stylist and public relations man, Aro, asks with long suffering patience.

"Too much cleavage."

"You have outstanding cleavage."

"And it will be 'outstanding' in that dress. No."

"We have an image to maintain." He drawls.

I've certainly been described as beautiful a few times. Also hot, sexy and a bit of a strumpet.

"Will you at least try it on?" He asks sweetly, wafting the dark blue fabric at me like a punkawallah.

"No."

Silence.

"I'm going to pull on that lip and wrap it over your forehead." I snarl at him.

"Please?" He asks, fluttering his eyelashes at me and sticking the offending lip out a bit further. "You know I'm always right."

I snatch it from him and retreat to my bathroom.

Where unsurprisingly it turns out that he always is.

...

"Ms Swan!"

"Miss Swan!"

"Bella!"

"Isabella!"

"This way please!"

"Who are you wearing?"

"Where's Jake tonight? Is it true he's moving to London without you?"

The questions and the flashing bulbs are endless. This red carpet is quite short but it feels like miles . . . .

Smile. Twirl. Platitude. Air kiss. Smile. Spout an inanity. Air kiss. Air kiss. Platitude. Smile. Discreetly remove unwanted roaming hands of film star. Smile. Inanity. Twirl.

And all this for the premier of a movie I won't even remember in the morning.

Demetri has me home by midnight and the press pictures are already in my inbox courtesy of Aro. I never look at them unless I have to.

And I have other distractions tonight . . . .

...

He strips me out of my clothes without preamble.

I like that.

The sense of passion, urgency . . . .

His lips and palms are warm against my skin as he explores it. They make me quiver with anticipation and when I can't stand it anymore he groans as I remove _his_ clothes and guide him to where I want him to be . . . .

...

He's long gone when I wake.

The way it should be.

Six am. Time for my workout.

Do I mind Jake's job taking him away from home for so long, so often?

No.

It gives me time to do what I want and _who_ I want . . . .

...

Saturday.

What do I do on Saturdays?

I visit my Dad.

I love my Dad.

I'm not sure what he feels about me, he may have watched one too many TV shows that have featured me, but if he has he never says anything.

Demetri doesn't drive me, I have a licence like a normal person, and I do this myself.

...

On Sundays I usually visit my Mom.

She doesn't give a shit but it's important to me that I do.

...

Monday.

Packing for a trip to Europe.

Or rather Lauren and Aro are.

I'm dealing with my emails, there are usually a few . . . .

...

As I've become accustomed to I'm floated onto the plane on a wave of obsequiousness.

It pisses me off if I'm honest, since I've never done anything remotely important.

But it also worries me sometimes too.

I like it.

And I'm starting to expect it and want to rip someone a new one when I don't get it.

...

Jake's meeting me in London.

He hasn't said anything about the BBC but I'm suspicious nevertheless . . . .

They do say I'm smart, and I'm certainly not as stupid as some of the people I run into on a daily basis.

...

I'd had three meetings, and after finally being left alone, a soak in the tub, when Jake pushes his way into our hotel suite.

He smiles when he sees me, I adore that smile. It breaks a serious and handsome face into a thing of breathtaking beauty.

And he crosses the room in a few loping strides, throwing himself down on me where I'm sprawled on the couch as he tugs my towelling robe open . . . .

...

Celebrities in sunglasses really piss me off, especially when they're inside an airport terminal. But I know how to play the game and sunglasses and speculation are better than anyone getting a shot of my red puffy eyes.

Jake _has_ taken a job with the BBC and I'm going to miss him since he doesn't believe a long distance relationship will work.

...

There is only the flight home to dwell on it though, things to do, people to see . . . .

...

"So, the wedding is in six months. You'll come?"

"Of course I will, it's like a moment in history, Suaveward finally being claimed."

"Something like that." Rose purrs down the line. "She's probably shit scared he'll wriggle off the hook if she waits any longer. Or he's knocked her up. She wants to know if you'll be a bridesmaid?"

"Um, no."

"I knew you'd say that. Wise choice. I've already been measured for my cliché."

"What color?"

"Not one that suits a blonde." She drawls. "Bridezilla is one shrewd operator."

"I'll be there with bells on, in my own preferred colors."

"Denim and Converse will not be admitted to the ceremony, but they will be acceptable at the Hen and Stag Nights." Rose allows.

"We're doing both?"

"Hell yes we are! We went to college together, that supersedes any traditional shit."

"Are you allowed to call their nuptials shit?"

"Since I'm Chief Bridesmaid? Yes."

"Okay then. Let me know if you need me to do anything."

"I will . . . ."

...

Hiring. Firing. Meetings. Appearing on TV. Being interviewed for Cosmo. And photographed much more than normal, if that's possible, since Jake's defection to London.

Aro says the gossip columns are busy speculating about what I did wrong this time. The answer, of course, is everything.

...

"Twins."

"Holy shit!"

"That's what I said." Char allows as she tucks into her Chinese. "Pete was a tad ruder. Anyway we've told the 'olds' which means Jazz probably knows."

"Which means everyone knows." I observe.

"No secrets at the Cullens or Whitlocks." She laughs.

I fall silent, stabbing my chopsticks into my dinner.

Marriage and children, they're the way of things for most folk . . . .

...

"If we close the plant nearly a thousand people will be out of work."

"We're not running a charity." Char reminds the plant manager.

"No." I agree. "But we can act like one sometimes. Six months Clive, show me what you can do."

"Yes! Yes Ms Swan!"

"Are you insane?" Char demands as we swoop out through the foyer.

"No. I'm rich."

"I love you."

"No you don't. You love Pete."

"I'd have your babies if I could."

"No you wouldn't. They'd be clumsy, you hate clumsy."

"Okay, maybe not, and the brunette would clash with the blonde."

"Brunettes rule."

"Yeah." She chuckles. "But the blondes are having the fun."

...

"He's not too good today." Dad's nurse, Monica, informs me.

Great.

"Mom? Is that you?"

"No Dad, it's me, Bella."

"Bella?"

Yeah, not good today . . . .

...

"How is she?" I ask, studying my Mother.

"The same. You know she will be."

...

Monday. Meetings, meetings, meetings. Even dinner at the current 'it' restaurant is a meeting and I don't get in till nearly midnight.

...

Tuesday. More meetings. I'm too busy to get home for the removers to collect Jake's stuff so Char and Lauren do it for me. When I finally get there the 'to die for' apartment looks like it actually has died. I don't seem to have much stuff of my own here, nothing really other than clothes and toiletries.

At least I can 'rough up' the pile on the suede accent wall in our bedroom now, something Jake always used to bitch about, the contrast on the dark blue is striking.

So what if my master piece is a massive dick?

It's my wall.

...

Wednesday, drinks party at some new nightclub. The same old faces but the mojitos were _awesome_ . . . .

I lost Demetri somewhere in the crush or at least I thought I had, but when I was just about to make the stupid decision to let an 'acquaintance' drive me home he materialised from nowhere and bundled me away. I don't officially have a bodyguard but I sometimes wonder if someone on the board has decided I need one without telling me. Anyway, closet bodyguard or not, Demetri's a good guy

...

Safely home I ease off my heels with a groan of relief and pour myself a glass of wine.

No Jake no beer. I should probably organise my ass to buy some.

I peer deeper into the refrigerator.

And possibly some food.

Then, for lack of anything else to do, I wander around the apartment, even taking a moment to peruse the city lights.

I need to move.

This place sucks.

...

"You want to move _out_ of the city?" Lauren asks, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me on Thursday morning.

"Yes. Out."

"O-kay. Where?"

"I don't know, just out."

"Does Charlotte know about this?"

"Not yet."

"Can I brief her?"

"If you must. Just call my realtor and get her to come and see me."

"Of course Bella."

...

I wade through the requests on my desk, organising them into the normal three piles.

No. No. God no. Maybe. Okay. Pfft, over my dead body. Okay. No. No. What, after what you wrote about me last year, no. No . . . .

"Bella?" Lauren's voice wafts over the intercom. "You're 9 o'clock is here."

"Okay Lauren, send him in."

Here we go, another day another dollar . . . .

...

God I'm exhausted.

I blunder through the apartment, not bothering with the lights, and throw myself on the bed, fully clothed.

Fuck it.

...

I wake up on Friday morning in a less than happy mood, you would too if you'd slept in an uncomfortable two thousand dollar suit and your control-top pantyhose.

Thank god I don't need to go into the office today, I think.

Jake and I used to have 'us' days when we blocked out our diaries and resolved to do whatever the fuck we wanted.

Today is probably the last one and I don't know if I should carry them on or not. I used to like waking up without a plan, it was refreshing, but I'm not sure I can fill a day on my own without someone else to help me decide what to do. And I have to work like a dog to clear my diary anyway. Might be easier to just let it go.

Oh well, I should make the most of it for now, I can at least soak in the tub instead of taking a quick shower, and maybe do some grocery shopping . . . .

...

Saturday night I had Lauren make my excuses for missing the latest opening at the opera. Jake loved to go and mingle but I always found it excruciating. Money can buy you appreciation of many new experiences but wailing in Italian is not something I've ever warmed too.

And I don't have a date. I could get one of course but having actually done the grocery shopping yesterday I rather fancied a night in cooking my own dinner and quaffing beer.

It hasn't started out well. I can't actually remember the last time I watched TV, Jake always had twenty four news or sports on, and I don't recognise any of the shows. The movies aren't much more promising until I stumble on a romantic comedy I last watched in college with Rose.

That'll do nicely.

Setting it to record I move to my 'state of the art culinary space', otherwise known as the kitchen, and proceed to 'pierce and ping' my Mexican TV dinner with the mastery born of many years experience.

Then I take it and a beer to the study where my laptop is already on, I'll just catch up on my emails and proof read the draft report for the investors, then I'll watch the movie.

Several hours and many beers later I sprawl out on the couch to do just that but I'm not even sure if I stayed awake through the opening credits . . . .

...

This weekend also contains 'Skip Mom' Sunday. Not something I'm proud of but I learned a while ago that a break every once in a while upsets neither of us.

Unable to think of a single thing to do with my time I drive myself into the office, scaring the shit out of the security guard who was obviously planning a quiet day napping and watching sports.

I'm attending a charity auction tonight but I'm pretty sure there's something in the closet here I can wear so I needn't go home first . . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all the basics.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 3 Company**

**BPOV**

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Char demands, pacing up and down my office with Aro.

"That I was single?" I query. "And perfectly entitled."

"You do know." She growls. "That when you 'buy' a man at a Bachelor Auction you aren't actually supposed to fuck him?"

Even my blush doesn't distract her.

"I really don't see what the problem is, two consenting adults, twenty first century . . . ."

"He's married." Aro points out.

"I didn't know that." I confess. "I don't follow baseball. But surely that's her problem and not mine?"

"Sometimes Bella." Char groans, collapsing on one of my couches.

"We need damage control." Aro decides, collapsing on the other one.

"What damage?" I ask.

"Bella you are the CEO of a multi billion dollar global business, you have a reputation to protect."

"Has the share price dropped?" I enquire.

"No." They both say at the same time.

"Has the company's reputation been damaged?" I want to know.

"Marketing says unlikely."

"Then what does it matter if I 'boinked' an unfaithful baseball player?"

"What about you?" Char asks. "Don't you care what people think of _you_?"

"Honestly? These days? No."

It'll die down, it always does . . . .

...

"So." Rose asks, spearing her asparagus and sucking the butter soaked tip lasciviously. "What was he like?"

Its several weeks since the Bachelor Auction and the fuss has indeed died down but I knew Rose would want the messy details.

"Muscular." I snicker, sipping my perfectly chilled wine. "And vigorous."

"Hmm." She hums appreciatively. "I always thought he was hot. I see that his wife has very graciously agreed to forgive him."

"I'm not surprised. He's worth millions in endorsements."

"You're a callous bitch sometimes." She laughs, toasting me with her own pinot grigio. "I flove that about you."

"So." I begin, done with talking about me. "How much of this trip is business business and how much is wedding business?"

"Don't." She growls as the waiter takes away our decimated starters. "I swear she only asked me to be Chief Bridesmaid to save on a wedding planner."

"You and Esme, the dream team."

"Esme's loving it, of course, but in fairness to me and the complaining Em says I'm doing, I actually _work_." She sighs as our pasta is placed in front of us, savouring the aroma with me. "Yum. But at least she's not interfering, although she doesn't need to. She was extremely _exacting_ about what she wanted, the only way the Ma-in-law and I can go wrong is if we do it deliberately."

"How's Suaveward taking it?" I ask as she pauses to take a bite of her pasta.

"Absent." She laughs. "God this is good. You know the best restaurants Cyggers. He's been measured for his penguin suit and bought the rings. Other than that he's staying well out of the way."

"Sounds like a sensible move."

"One he's copied from Em." She observes darkly and I laugh.

There were times, in the run up to _their_ wedding, when I thought Em might not live to see it, and clearly it still rankles with my best friend.

The waiter tops up our wine while we finish our pasta, thank god I cancelled all my meetings for this afternoon. Who knows what havoc a tipsy CEO could wreak during normal business hours? Experience tells me the Board would consider _that_ more risky than a frisky one.

"Dessert?" I ask when we're done with our main course.

"Hell yes." Rose confirms. "And beaucoup more wine. Em wants to start a family."

I summon over the waiter who obliges us with more pinot grigio.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Are you mad?" She demands. "Motherhood and me? I know I've always wanted kids, but fuck, Cyggers, the responsibility. You know the world is full of assholes right?"

"I'd noticed."

"Bella, what if I raise another one? I'd never forgive myself."

"Oh Rose, only you."

...

Done with our family planning discussion, Rose needs to get over herself and be the mother she was always meant to be, we hit the streets where my name gets us a _miraculous_ lead time on the 'must have wedding cake'. And invitations scripted by the best calligrapher in town.

By which time its 'beer o'clock' and Rose and I retire to a nearby bar.

"Seriously." She snorts as we down another. "I don't care what color she calls it, its fucking beige. How am I going to look good in fucking beige?"

"A tan?"

"That's what I said. Em says he'll take me to Isle Esme before the wedding. That'll backfire on her, won't it?"

"You don't like her?"

"I don't dislike her. It's just. Fuck. My lips are sealed."

"Around the neck of a beer bottle."

"Oh. Yes. It's empty. Where's that sexy barman?"

"Ladies?"

"More beer Dwaine." Rose demands. "My BFF and I are runnin' dry here."

We sip our new cold ones in appreciative silence for a moment.

"I shouldn't be telling you this." Rose admits.

"Huh?" I ask, beer confused.

"Tanya. Bridezilla. She was not best pleased that you weren't going to be a bridesmaid."

"Um?"

"I'm assyou. No, I'm drunk, that's not right. I'm assumin' it's because you bein' in the weddin' party would have given it some social media cachet."

"But I'm still gonna be there aren't I? I'm not uninvited or anything?"

"Groom's family. No uninvitin'."

"Fuck we're drunk." I observe.

"I know." She sniggers. "What say we finish these and find some junk food?"

...

We stagger out into the darkness to find Demetri and my long black car waiting for us. I'd forgotten he was working tonight . . . .

"I love you." Rose informs him as he holds the door open so she can fall inside.

"Thank you." I murmur as I plunge in after her.

"Where are we going?" He asks as he prepares to close the door.

"We need grease." I inform him.

"Dave's?" He suggests.

"Oh god _yes_." Rose moans. "You get me Dave's cheeseburger and fries Demetri and I'll blow you, no, that's not right, love you forever."

"I know what you meant Mrs Cullen." Demetri drawls as he closes the door on our laughter.

"Haven't you ever?" Rose asks with a comedy wink.

"No!" I protest as we glide away from the kerb.

"I would have." She sighs, leaning her head back with a beatific smile. "He's as hot as hell for an older guy. I would have, every time he 'drove' me anywhere. I'd have put it in his contract, what kind of plutocrat are you?

...

An hour or so later Demetri delivers us to my building and insists on riding up with us in the elevator.

Which is just as well because I need him to open the door, can't seem to get the key to work for some reason . . . .

"Call me in the morning." He says quietly as he steers Rose away from a collision with the 'solid oak' frame. "If you want to go anywhere tomorrow."

"Thank you but I doubt we'll be goin' anywhere till well after lunch."

"Bella. Ms Swan. Let me help you, okay?"

"Demetri . . . ."

"Please, Bella, you know I take my job seriously."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Just let me drive you."

"Cyggers!" Rose yells from the depths of the apartment. "A little light babe?"

"Fine." I tell him as I sway alarmingly. "I'm confused but I'll call you if I need you."

"Thank you." He says, ushering me inside and closing the door behind me with a firm click.

...

Alright, I'll admit it, it's not always the Cullens that inflict life threatening hangovers on me, sometimes I do it myself.

Ungh.

I stagger into the kitchen, where Rose, whose recovery powers meant she was always destined to be a Cullen, already has coffee on.

"Love the bed hair." She muses as she dips into her bowl of cereal and flicks through the morning papers. "We're in the gossip column."

"Ooh. Mid week gossip, that'll please Aro, were we drunk?"

"Nope, at the restaurant, eating and looking like the rich bitch goddesses we are."

"Good thing they didn't get one of us slumped on the kerb stuffing our faces at Dave's."

"Yeah, maybe, but Em would have been jealous as hell, he has a 'man crush' on Dave."

"What are we going to do today?" I ask as bathe my face in the steam from my coffee.

"We're not drinking that's for sure." She sighs. "We're getting old Bella, I feel like a well wrung dishcloth this morning."

I shake my head at her. Rose is one of those women who rolls out of bed perfect and ready to go, you'd never know she'd been doing shots last night and dancing round my apartment, naked, to Smells Like Teen Spirit.

"We're only thirty Rose." I point out.

"You might be." She snorts. "My birthday's not till December."

"Bitch."

"Strumpet."

...

Eventually, when I couldn't entice her with a TV dinner, we went out for lunch and decided to go bother my realtor. Rose was fascinated with the idea of me buying some dirty great romantically haunted mansion in the middle of nowhere.

But none of the huge properties they showed us in commutable distance of the city were what I'd had in my head when I'd conceived the idea of 'out'.

So we looked at apartments again instead, lining up a couple of penthouses for me to view the following week.

Then she came to a gallery opening with me as my plus one and we restricted ourselves to getting only mildly tight.

...

The following day I loaned her Demetri to drive her round her appointments and take her back to the airport and made my own way into the office.

I read all the resumes Char gave me in bed last night and the words are still swimming in my head when I start the first interview.

By lunch I've done three identikit wannabe personal assistants and almost lost the will to live. I know intellectually that Char's shoes are going to be impossible to fill in the exact same way but surely some kind of personality isn't too much to ask for?

The woman herself bustles into my office bearing food, which cheers me up immediately.

"Well?" She asks as we dig into our noodles.

I pull a face and she laughs.

"They all fit the profile we put together." She points out.

"Good for them." I observe sourly. "You know women used to give birth while they worked in the fields right?"

"This isn't a field Bella and not even for you am I dropping twins in Accounting."

"I know." I sigh. "Sorry. Not handling the idea of change very well."

"You'll manage, maybe this afternoon's crop will be more to your liking."

...

"Seriously." I complain as we lounge on my office couches with our heels off. "He was so arrogant I almost wanted to slap him and when I asked what he felt qualified him to take such a huge leap up the career ladder he laughed at me and told me not to worry about it because he was full of ideas on how better to lead the company. Cheeky fucker."

"I'm sorry Bella, he seemed charming at the first interview." Char laughs. "Maybe he was just trying to make sure you'd remember him?"

"I'll remember him alright." I growl. "And the sight of him scurrying out the door with my exquisitely shod toe up his ass."

"So you liked Felix?" Char asks when she's done laughing at the memory.

"I did. He's got the right experience and I think he'd adapt to the culture here well but he's six seven and every time we walk into a room together we're going to get laughed at. I barely even make it up to his shoulder."

"There are worse failings." She chuckles.

"Yeah." I laugh. "Poor candidate number four, I feel sorry for her, I thought I was going to throw up when I came for my first interview here with the Old Man. At least I got the waste paper basket to her just in time."

"So are you going to give her a job here somewhere?"

"I am, there but for the grace of god and all that. It could so easily have been me."

...

After I shoo Char out to meet Pete I settle down to catch up on all the work I've missed in the last couple of days and its one in the morning by the time I'm done.

Riding the elevator down to the parking garage I'm lost in thought, not even on the fateful day of my interview did I imagine I'd be here like this now. It's surreal . . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 4 Legacy**

**BPOV**

Reginald Royston Cooper, aka The Old Man, was often described as the last great American tycoon. Even I'd heard of him though like most people I'd never heard of the company he founded, Cask Corp. I had to look them up before I went to my interview, then wished I hadn't, they were huge. They owned companies that manufactured all sorts of things, from ships to polystyrene. The mind boggled.

But I didn't have a lot of choice at the time.

I'd never intended to move to New York but when Mom and Phil, her second husband, had their accident here it just seemed like the easiest thing to do. Phil didn't make it and Mom, well it was going to be a long time before she went anywhere. And since I didn't have any kind of life plan it didn't seem like such a big deal.

When I turned up at the Cask building in my best suit, sick to my stomach with nerves, I'd been expecting to meet some guy from Human Resources. And I have to say that as the burnished copper elevator whisked me silently up to the top floor of plush carpets and hushed whispering I was seriously impressed with the clout HR had in this company, normally in my experience they were in the basement with the IT people.

I announced myself at the forbidding reception desk and after a few minutes was ushered through an impressive set of double doors where I came face to face with the Old Man.

"_You_." He said in his deep voice. "Do not look like you are called Michael Strathmore."

"Um. No. Bella Swan."

"Are you on the list?"

"Um?"

He sighed and sat back in his chair.

"I don't have your resume I'm afraid. Talk me through it."

I hesitated for a moment.

"Sit down girl." He snapped. "At least if you faint in the chair someone can carry you out in it and if you're going to vomit, the waste paper basket is to your left."

It turned out HR had mixed up the interview lists. Instead of being interviewed for a junior position in Corporate Affairs I interviewed for the Old Man's personal assistant. I still don't know why he chose me over the other eminently more suitable candidates, he sure as shit never told me. On a personal level he wasn't big on revealing what was going on in his head, just the occasional pearl of wisdom gleaned from almost ninety years walking the earth.

The wretched man was fitter than me, and tall, I used to have jog to keep up with him.

And everything I knew about his life I looked up somewhere.

Never married. Never had any children. Older brother who died in the second world war, also childless. Patron of the Arts and a few select charities. He wore pin stripe suits with waistcoats and pocket watches, even at the weekends, and had a penchant for hand rolled Cuban cigars and the finest cognacs.

He never told me why he left me his majority share holding but when he got sick he made me promise to take care of Cask Corp.

So I do.

It might seem odd to some to love an old man I barely knew but I did spend almost twenty hours a day with him, almost seven days a week for a couple of years and I probably knew him as well as anybody did, except perhaps Demetri, who was his driver too. The Old Man gave me a chance that no one else would have done, and taught me things that no one else could have, I owe him a lot.

...

The electric gates on the parking garage of my building are on the fritz again so I cruise the streets until I find somewhere to leave my Panamera GTS. Nothing had better happen to it, I love this car.

The city really doesn't ever sleep so I'm not the only one on the street as I hurry towards home and my bed.

"Bella?" A voice asks and I turn automatically, coming face to face with a sandy haired man I'm pretty sure I've never met before.

"Um, I'm sorry, its late, do I know you?"

"I was hoping you'd like to have coffee with me?"

Shit. Fuck. Stranger danger. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

"I'm sorry." I begin, starting to walk away. "I'm expected home and I'm late . . . ."

I make it about three strides before I feel his hand on my elbow.

"Please Bella. It's the least you can do."

"I'm sorry?" I snap, yanking myself away from him. "I'm not going to have coffee with someone I don't know."

I turn on my heel and walk away again.

"Bella. Stop. Don't be coy with me. We're going to be great friends, and lovers, I'm sure of it. You just need to give me a chance."

I don't stop and I don't look back.

"I have to go, I'm sorry." I throw over my shoulder.

I'm almost at the corner of my building when he grabs me, pulling me sideways into the shadows, his hand covering my mouth.

Now I'm scared. So I bite his palm and knee him in the balls. He lets go, cursing, and I run.

But my Christian Louboutins and I weren't designed for it and my ankle twists, hurling me to the sidewalk.

"Fuck." I scream, scrabbling forward onto my knees and getting to my feet.

A hand snags in the back of my jacket and I whirl around, shoving the heel of my hand into his nose, then I'm off and running again.

"Fucking bitch." He howls. "You'll pay for that."

There goes the friends and lovers part I guess.

I round the corner and sprint for the front doors but this time when he grabs me he turns me quickly and punches me in the face. The darkness explodes into painful stars and I barely register when he hits me again, just the feel of falling through the air and my head hitting the sidewalk . . . .

...

"Lie still Bella." A familiar voice orders. "The EMTs will be here in a minute."

"Demetri?" I gasp in panic, struggling against his restraining hands. "Where is he?"

"He's over there." Demetri inclines his head indicating somewhere behind us. "Don't worry about him, he's not getting anywhere near you again."

"God I'm glad you're here."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner." He murmurs, studying me intently.

"Has he spoiled the pretty?" I ask nonsensically, wondering if the pain in my face bodes ill.

"No Bella." Demetri barks out a short laugh. "I don't think he's permanently damaged the 'pretty', but you might want to stay in for a few days till the bruising fades."

"Can I get up?"

"Not until the EMTs get here."

"But I'm fine, the sidewalk's freezing and you know I don't like fuss."

"You were out cold. So, no, you can't get up."

I sigh theatrically and he rolls his eyes at me as the ambulance pulls up.

...

"Holy shit!" Char exclaims, dropping Pete's hand and rushing to my side. "Fuck. Are you okay?"

"Of course I am." I grumble. "They say they're just keeping me in overnight for observation. Keeping an eye on their profits more like."

"He hasn't damaged your inner grump then." She laughs in relief.

"He never got that far, by some miracle Demetri was there."

Hmm.

"Charlotte Whitlock, explain the shifty eyes please."

Behind her Pete chuckles and she turns to scowl at him.

"Okay. We kind of knew you'd acquired another stalker and after all the grief you gave us last time we decided to just let Demetri keep a closer eye on you."

"We?"

"Steve Nichols and I."

"What the fuck has a random crackpot got to do with Steve, he's head of corporate security."

"And you're the head of the body corporate so you're his responsibility as well."

"Fine." I sigh, closing my eyes. "Remind me to thank him in the morning."

"Are you mad at me?" She asks.

I open my eyes again.

"No. And thank you too. But please, tell me next time, okay?"

She nods and we share a smile.

"Did you bring my clothes?"

"Yes. But the Doctor says you should stay here."

"I want to go home. _Please_."

"Fine." She huffs. "Pete, out."

"Yes ma'am." He drawls at her throwing me a salute as he ambles away.

...

Promising to be round first thing in the morning Char hugs me and then Demetri settles me carefully in the car and drives me home.

"Will you come in?" I ask him, feeling awkward, but he nods and takes the keys to open the door for me. "I'm desperate for some coffee, want some?"

"Please." He replies, perching on the couch.

I bustle around the kitchen for a few minutes, gathering my thoughts and then join him in the living room with our coffees. Demetri's always been as tight lipped as the Old Man but I've gotten to know more about him over the years and I respect him, he should _not_ be following me around all hours of the day and night while I fritter my life away.

"Are you going to be in any trouble?" I ask him. "The policeman who interviewed me said the guy was in a bit of a state."

"No." He shakes his head. "He attacked me when I pulled him off you. Self defence."

"Thank you. I can't tell you . . . . I was so scared. Thank you Demetri."

He nods and sips his coffee.

"You want to know why don't you?" He asks.

"Yes. Please."

"The Old Man hired me to be his driver because of my military background. No one that rich or visible is ever truly safe, he understood that better than most. I was always his Driver cum Bodyguard. When he got sick he told me that he was leaving the company to you and he asked me to look out for you too. He thought you were too soft and too trusting to think of it for yourself."

"Please _please_ tell me that you haven't wasted your time following me about all these years. That's not fair, you shouldn't have to do that."

"I haven't, I'm with you most of the time anyway and it wasn't a waste of time, I made a promise."

"But I'm not even paying you for that." I object.

"How much do you think chauffeurs get paid Bella?" He laughs. "You've always paid me for my other skills whether you realised it or not."

"Some CEO I am." I huff.

"You shouldn't have to know everything that goes on in the world Bella, the Old Man didn't want you to lose all that innocence, he just wanted me to keep you safe."

"I feel . . . . stupid."

"You're not that." He says gently.

And for some really inane reason hot tears start rolling down my face. I scrub at them angrily but they won't fucking stop and the pain in my poor abused face is nothing compared to the one in my chest. What the fucking hell is wrong with me?

Demetri sets his mug down, taking away mine, and silently gathers me in his big strong arms.

Which really doesn't help, in no time at all I'm sobbing against him like a child, relieved that he doesn't ask me why, because I'm pretty sure I can't explain it. Maybe it's the fact that someone's been watching out for me all this time and I was completely oblivious.

When I finally calm I pull away from him with a whispered apology and he gets up without a word to finish his coffee.

"Bella." He says as he hovers in the doorway on the way out. "I know you promised the Old Man too, but he wouldn't hold you to it, not if you weren't happy. He loved you."

I manage a wan smile as I close the door behind him and the tears start again.

...

Frightened of going to sleep after the lecture the Doctor gave me when I discharged myself, I roam the apartment crying and eventually fetch up in my study.

My laptop is on so I idly scan the web, choosing to ignore that I'm still sniffing and sobbing since I don't seem to have a clue why, or be able to stop.

There it is and it's not even eight in the morning yet.

'Swan Stalker. Bodyguard saves La Belle Bella from violent attacker.'

There's even a picture of me, face swollen and streaked with blood, leaving the hospital with Char and Pete.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 5 Spittin' Feathers**

**BPOV**

"So." I begin as Char and Felix sit across the table. "I'll only be gone for two days. Friday and Monday, it's a good opportunity for you to handover some stuff."

I scowl at Char but she remains stoic and to be honest I can understand why, heavily pregnant now she doesn't want to rip it up on Tanya's bachelorette weekend in Cancún, she's saving herself for Vegas.

"Char, I'm thinking the Salvor deal and the background on Cincinnati?"

"Yes Bella."

"Any questions?"

"Will you be out of contact?" Felix asks.

"I'm never out of contact." I snort and he nods.

"Unless she's forgotten to switch her cell back on." Char snickers reminding me of the time they had to send someone round to Jake's old apartment to pull me out of his bed when one of our ships sank.

...

"Thank fuck!" Rose exclaims as I emerge from baggage claim. "Alice has drunk herself insensible and Tanya's Mom has had an allergic reaction to the shellfish."

"Um?" I ask as she crushes me in her arms.

"Cyggers, I'm so glad you're here. Alice and Margaret are the liveliest ones, even unconscious, we're hanging out with department store dummies. It's like a fucking apocalypse movie! Fuck that, let me look at you, are you okay?"

She pulls back, holding my face in her Amazon hands.

"You look okay." She decides.

"Of course I do, it was _ages_ ago."

"But you are okay?"

"Yes Rose, just like the other forty million times you've asked. But I am sweltering in this suit."

"Oops. Sorry. Let's get you to the hotel so you can change."

...

As soon as I'm alone I strip out of my clothes and stand under the shower.

Sun, sea and sand. Just what I need for a few days.

Washed and dried I don a dark blue bikini and grab a towel. One pale and pasty New Yorker, headed for the beach . . . .

...

Rose shoves a Mojito at me and directs me to the lounger next to hers.

"How the fuck." I demand, as I stretch out. "Can someone as blonde as you be so tan?"

"Effort." She growls. "Beige, remember? Stop bellyaching and catch up."

I settle back and close my eyes, revelling in the warmth on my skin.

"Where are they all?"

"Swimming."

I open one eye beneath my sunglasses. Identikit blonde heads are indeed moving sedately up and down the infinity pool, hair avoiding the water in a way that frankly defies nature but tells of years of concern for your appearance.

"You know Tanya." Rose drawls. "The one behind her in the ill advised red ensemble is Irina, her BFF. The bottle blonde is Jessica, she's riding higher in the water because of her fake tits. The bony shoulders belong to Carmen, she's English. And Butterball Blonde is Kate, Tanya's cousin."

"How are you getting on with them?" I ask innocently.

"They fucking hate me." She chuckles. "I've died and gone to heaven."

...

"Thank god!" Alice squeals as I venture into the hotel bar several hours later. "All the blonde is giving me eye strain."

We hug each other tight.

"Talking of blonde how's Jasper?"

"Busy." She sighs, steering me to the bar. "He's totally focussed on Vegas next week and he's got so much to get done first."

"Are you coming too?"

"Hell yes. Ernesto, Mojitos please, you know what I like. I can't wait." She lowers her voice. "I'm not sure what this is but it doesn't feel like much of a bachelorette party."

"Ali, you have high standards."

"I have low standards." She corrects as we gulp down our first drinks. "We trashed a hotel in Ireland. I don't think this lot could trash a dumpster."

"They're nice people." I offer by way of explanation.

"Fuck, Bella, I'm sorry. But nice is not a word I'd apply to these bitches, I don't know how Tanya can stand them. You'd better have another drink."

Okay, no arguments from me.

Rose joins us as we're finishing our second round.

"Ernesto, babe, Mojito me." She growls, plopping down on the stool next to mine.

"What's up?" Alice asks.

"Tanya's confiscated my dick." Rose complains, ripping the adornments from her Mojito and downing it in one gulp.

"Oh Rose." Alice commiserates, motioning for another round. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm confused." I admit.

"Alice and I clubbed together to get her a massive dick ice sculpture." Rose sighs. "Its fucking awesome, here."

She scrolls through her phone and then shoves it at me.

"Wow." Is all I can manage, it's as tall as the swarthy looking guy standing next to it with a chisel and mallet.

"I know right?" Rose starts her second drink more sedately. "She said her Mother wouldn't approve of it being in the photos. That's the other thing I'm pissed about, she's only gone and hired a fucking photographer without telling me. I'm sorry Bella."

I shrug, I'm used to being photographed, it would have been nice not to worry about it but what can you do? It's not my bachelorette party.

"She's got some deal with one of the gossip sites." Rose continues. "Fucker's coming to Vegas with us as well."

"What!" Alice almost shouts. "No way. I've been looking forward to Edward's Bachelor do for months, all of us back together again. How very fucking dare she?!"

Rose whips out an Amazonian arm, reaching easily across me, and trapping tiny Alice on her stool before she can storm off in search of the Bride to Be.

"Hold on there Shorty." Rose drawls. "It's her wedding, let's get through tonight and worry about it in the morning. I've already called Em, he'll work it out."

But Alice is still fulminating darkly when Tanya glides in with her Mother ten minutes later, both of them looking a million dollars.

Rose slides off her stool to greet them, ice blue eyes glittering dangerously in the half light.

Oh shit. Mayday, mayday, this celebration dinner is going down . . . .

"Margaret." She purrs, leading the Mom over. "This is Isabella Swan, a friend of mine and Edward's, I'm sure you've heard of her?"

"Of course." Margaret demurs as we air kiss in the prescribed manner. "I've read about many of your exploits."

I smile and turn to Tanya who is hovering.

"You look wonderful, are you excited for your big day?"

"Of course." She responds with a full on smile, wrapping her arm around my waist.

Pop and snap.

I smile brightly for the camera and then disengage myself and move away. I don't bear Tanya any ill will for her actions. I've found over the years that most people don't mean any harm in wanting to bask in my celebrity. And I've learned the hard way that some _would_ walk over my still warm twitching body to get their name and face linked to mine in the press. I've chosen to deal with it as graciously as I can and not judge. And the photographer really doesn't bother me, even though I recognise his ratty little face and mean eyes, at least he isn't coming into dinner with us.

...

Eventually everyone else arrives and we're ushered into our private dining room, it's all a bit stiff and formal, but each to their own.

I'd expected, and been looking forward to, some local fare but the menu is decidedly tame, not that anyone but Alice, Rose and I, is actually eating much.

The champagne is flowing like concrete, probably getting sucked away by the awkward undercurrents.

Alice is sulking and texting on her cell.

Margaret, the shell fish intolerant, seems to have forgotten this fact and I'm beginning to suspect that her 'intolerance' might be more gin based.

Tanya's friends are so jealous of her I'm not surprised she's picked beige for them, it'll tone down the green nicely.

These women are all what you'd call 'nouveau riche'. Rose however is a blue blood through and through. She can trace her roots back past the Founding Fathers, a fact that is totally lost on this gathering. They'll suck up to me because I'm rich and famous but look down on Rose because she isn't, despite what she's done to orchestrate this classy celebration and Tanya's uber chic wedding in such a short space of time.

I've met her Dad, Tyrone Hale, a time or two through work, in fact his company is the only one I've ever bought _and_ asset stripped. He's a grade A asshole who traded her Mom in for a younger sexier model once she'd given him Rose and he'd milked her for her old money and connections. Rose's Mom lost her fight with cancer the year before she started college so I never met her but Rose has more breeding in her little finger than these airheads could ever aspire to.

And it's showing, every time she whips out the 'ice pick' to correct their pronunciation, use of cutlery, posture or crass lack of culture.

"I am so sorry Tanya." She purrs once again. "But I _know_ how much you do not want your wedding party _sullied_ by poor manners."

This potentially poisonous pause, one of many, is broken by the arrival of the cake, tastefully iced with a couple kissing.

I kick Alice under the table and she looks up, bleary eyed, from sexting Jasper.

"Is it over?" She asks loudly and Rose and I laugh.

"No." Rose responds with glee. "Its time for the toasts and I get to go first as Chief Bridesmaid."

Oh dear god. Now she's drunk _and_ dangerously glittery eyed . . . .

Rose gets to her feet, raising her re-filled champagne flute.

"We're here to celebrate Tanya's impending joining to our brother Edward, first time the rich and ridiculously good looking man's been mentioned all week, but what can you do?

Anyway.

I've been privileged to know Edward for many years and he's a good man, so I'm sure he's made an excellent decision where you're concerned. And its not like he's marrying your friends, so no worries there.

And let us not, absolutely not, make any mention of his colorful sexual history during this happy celebration. Except to say, Tanya, that practise makes perfect and Edward has had _plenty_ of practise, which I am _certain_ will move the earth on your wedding night.

Be jealous bitches, be very jealous!

Cheers!"

Rose raises her glass and drains it while I automatically pat Alice on the back as she chokes on her own champagne.

Silence.

Total. Stony. Silence.

"To Tanya and Edward!" I urge, draining my own glass.

...

"Shit." Rose groans, letting her forehead smack onto the sticky bar table between us.

"I'm sorry." I giggle. "But Rose, seriously, she's going to be your sister-in-law, what were you thinking?"

"Rose not think." She mumbles without sitting up. "Rose get drunk and vent spleen."

"Your beer's getting warm." I point out, taking a swig from mine.

She sniffs, sitting up and reaching for it one fluid motion.

"What is it?" She asks after she's taken a gulp.

"Some local brew." I shrug, looking round the bar we've escaped to.

"Fuck it." She decides, draining it. "At least this place has atmosphere. Let's dance!"

...

When we get back to the hotel some time later there's a message waiting for Rose at Reception.

"Fuck!"

"What?"

"I'm an awesome Chief Bridesmaid." She groans, handing it to me. "Bride's walked out on her own Bachelorette Party citing 'irreconcilable differences'."

"Shit, you'd better call Edward."

"Cell's in my room, let's go."

"Twenty seven missed calls." She groans when we get there. "One from Tanya. Ten from Em. _Seven_ from Edward. Three from Alice. One from work and five, _five_, from Esme."

We listen to Tanya's first;

'Rose, I am so sorry if I offended you in any way which caused you to act out so viciously in front of my Mother and friends. I will see you at the Rehearsal Dinner the week after next, please understand that I only wish to hear from you in apology before that time. Unless there are any issues at the last bridesmaid's fitting I need to be made aware of.'

"Ouch." I murmur.

"Ouch my ass." Rose grumbles. "I've offended her so much she's still going to let me do all the work on her wedding."

Alice is next;

'Where are you?' In a hushed voice. 'I came back down and you two were gone. I'm going to hide out in my room, the bitches are still spitting feathers and poor Tanya looks like she's going to cry.'

Em;

'My . . . . Beguiling . . . . ungh . . . . Wife, I just thought you should know . . . . mmmmm . . . . that I'm missing you and . . . . _fuck_ . . . . whacking off to that last photo we took of your . . . . mmmmm . . . . glistening petals . . . .'

"Ew." I protest, reddening.

"Sorry." She says, shutting off his moans. "He's a very visual person."

Esme;

'Rose, darling? Are you alright? Alice called. Please call me back, it doesn't matter what time.'

Alice;

'Rose, Esme wants you to call her. I told her not to worry since you're with Bella, I'd better be right, her cell's off . . . .'

"Shit!" I yelp, fishing it out of my purse and switching it back on.

Em again;

'Rose, Baby, Alice just called, please let me know you're okay. I'm going to try Cygger's cell.'

I check, I have a ton of messages, fucking thing was only off for about two hours after we fled the hotel . . . .

Edward, voice smooth as velvet despite his words;

'Rose? What the fuck have you done? I've just had a tongue lashing from Ma Denali. Call me. Please.'

"I think we've just about covered it." Rose sighs, ending her call to voicemail before another message can play.

"I'll use your bathroom while you call Em." I mutter, knowing she'll need him more than anyone right now.

"Okay." She sighs again. "Thanks."

I rattle around in there for as long as I can and then emerge to find her sprawled on the bed. She pats the expanse of white linen beside her and I throw myself on it, revelling in the bounce for a few moments.

"What did he say?" I ask when we've stopped jiggling.

"He laughed." She says with a shrug.

"Fair enough." I allow. "It was quite funny."

"Where do I start?" She asks after a few minutes.

"Apology to the Bride?"

"Not yet, I can't even _begin_ to find the words."

"Esme?"

She dials and I take her free hand for moral support, using the other to text Alice and let her know we're back . . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 6 What Happens in Vegas**

**BPOV**

Alice and I spent the next two days reminding a doggedly sunbathing Rose that she hadn't _actually_ ruined Edward's wedding, just put a bit of a dent in it. Although Tanya was still maintaining 'radio silence' despite Rose's fulsome 'its not you it's your friends' apology, when we parted ways at the airport.

A ton of work awaited me back in the City and I only paused my furious pace to engage with Em via email.

_Subject: Operation Swerve_

_Cyggers, we are not having a pap follow us round Vegas on my little brother's bachelor weekend. I have an idea that only a rich bitch can help me with . . . ._

_Subject: Rich Bitch_

_Emmett Cullen, calling me a bitch is not usually how a petitioner gets something out of me, but as I know what a social inadequate you are I will let that slide. What's your plan?_

_Subject: Lear Jet_

_I know you have one, don't deny it._

_Subject: *Sigh*_

_I might have something like that around here somewhere, what would you be planning to do with it?_

_Subject: Escape_

_Subject: Woefully Lacking_

_As in your communication skills are. _

_Subject: Playing Hard to Get_

_Can we use it for Suaveward or not?_

_Subject: Lauren_

_Call her, keep it reasonable or I'll be forced to kill you._

_Subject: Love You_

_You are the absolute best woman in the whole wide world, apart from My Amazonian Love Goddess (inserted in case she reads this)_

_Subject: Throwing up in my mouth_

_And I've Bcc'd her on everything._

...

I was planning to use the company jet to get to Vegas but Lauren smoothly informed me I would be catching a scheduled flight.

Okay then.

I even managed to deal with the fact that that Tanya's tame pap, Garrett, and I were on the same flight. But maybe only because Char and Pete were with me.

I hadn't known his name until now but his face is etched in my memory. He was the one who photographed me falling apart the night I found out about Charlie, Aro told me later he got _thousands_ for that one . . . .

...

Em's plan was pretty sound, none of us actually left the airport, instead we hung out in the VIP lounge for an hour or two, waiting for everyone to arrive, before boarding the jet and heading for California.

It won't take Garrett long to work it out when he realises none of us are at the hotel, but Em's confident he won't find us in San Francisco.

I'm pretty sure this is going to put another dent in the Denali / Cullen nuptials but no one else seems to care, not even Edward, who is on his third beer and feeling no pain.

I barely see him these days but when I do he's never as carefree as he seems today, college Edward is always how I remember him best, full of promise but never able to take himself too seriously.

As if he knows I'm thinking about him he looks up at me and smiles.

...

Em has a bus waiting for us at the airport and we check into our hotel in high spirits.

The gang's all here.

Mike, Angela, Ben, Riley, Siobhan, Tyler, Eric and Paul.

And there are new people arriving on different flights from Edward's life now, Alistair, Sam, Jane, Marcus and Leah.

...

Reliving old times Rose spurns Em so she and I get ready together. My bed is awash with discarded beauty products, clothes and make-up as we giggle and laugh our way through the process. My knowledge far outstrips hers these days but I'm more than happy to let her take charge, ringing my eyes in kohl until they're huge in my face and pouring me into a form fitting dress that shows off my every curve.

Nevertheless.

We're still us.

"Fuck." I mutter as she preens in front of the mirror. "Why weren't you ever a model?"

She shrugs and we laugh, it wasn't for lack of offers, the truth is she has as many problems with her looks as I do.

"Ready?" She asks, offering me her arm.

"Hell yes, end of an era and all that." I laugh, taking it.

"Let's do this." She growls, dragging me out the door . . . .

...

"Hey!" Everyone yells as we sashay into the bar, fashionably late.

"Hey!" We shout back, embracing our youth, our friends, and the proffered cocktails.

Hug. Kiss. Express surprise. Gossip. Hug. Kiss. Gossip. Hug. Hug. The evening passes by in a warm fug of reconnecting, dancing and drinking. None of these people give a flying fuck for what I am now and I love them for it, to them I'm still just the entertainingly awkward girl from Phoenix. Edward's newbies take a while to work that out but kudos to him for picking friends that can.

...

"Good time?" He asks as we lean on each other, waiting for the elevator.

"The best. You?"

"Getting there." He laughs, drawing me into the enclosed space with him when the doors open.

I sag against him automatically, drunk as a skunk, wondering for the millionth time what aftershave he buys, he always smells _so_ good . . . .

"Which floor?" He asks as we smoothly ascend.

"Um, four, I think."

And I relax completely into his warmth as he winds an arm around my shoulders in an old familiar way. He's always had the knack of making me feel relaxed, safe, enveloped, and I try to recapture that feeling whenever I can. With whomever I can . . . .

"Bella?" He says gently, breaking into my inebriated little world.

"Hmm?" I mutter sleepily.

"We've been up and down a few times now, are we getting off this thing or not?"

"Where are we?"

"Sixth."

"Down." I murmur, handing him my key.

"Okay."

His crooked smile tugs at my heart strings as he lets me into my room and kisses my forehead.

"See you for golf?"

"Sure." I respond, twirling into my room and collapsing on the cluttered bed to the sound of his once familiar laughter.

"Night Bella."

"Night Edward."

...

I didn't make it to golf the following morning, but I wasn't the only one.

A load of us ended up hanging out in the hotel, drinking coffee, catching up, and stuffing our faces.

...

Tonight's 'formal' dinner was a rowdy affair, so much so that we were all booing Em when he insisted we board the 'Debauchery Express' to head downtown to the nightclub.

...

Rose, Alice and I hit the dance floor, dragging a titanic but still game Char with us.

Eventually, sweaty and thirsty, we head back to the seats the others have 'staked out' in the VIP area.

"Aw, look." Rose urges as she and I sip our chilled champagne.

I follow her eyes and laugh.

"How _does_ he do that?" She asks, shaking her head.

"No idea."

Edward, as was always the way, is like an egg yolk, surrounded by an albumen of adoring women and a fragile outer shell of men, ready to scoop up any of his admirers that fall by the wayside.

"She's in your old spot." Rose observes as Jane throws her head back and laughs at something he's said.

"Edward's lap was always the safest place to be." I chuckle. "Couldn't get trampled in the crush there."

"I think he used to use you as a shield sometimes."

"He did." I smile, remembering the feel of him whispering in my ear, 'Don't leave me Bella, this one wants to eat me alive'.

"Come on you two, you get to gossip all the time." Em shouts, shoving his head abruptly between ours. "I wanna dance!"

...

By two in the morning we're all in desperate need of something so some of the group head back to their hotel beds and the rest of set off in a noisy drunken search for sustenance in a strange city.

"You having the best time yet?" I ask as he strolls along beside me with his hands shoved into his pant pockets.

"Getting there." He chuckles.

"You're a hard man to please." I sigh, shaking my head at him.

"My night clubbing days are long behind me." He says ruefully. "Em could have set us up for a weekend of drinking beer in front of the TV and I'd have been just as happy."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Of course I did." He snorts with a grin. "It went in one ear, through the wide empty spaces, and came straight out the other."

"That's my boy!" Rose yells, appearing from nowhere and jumping on Edward's back.

He staggers forward and she screams, but he manages to regain his balance and wrap her legs around his torso.

"Jesus Rose." He complains. "A little warning next time."

"Giddy up Edward!" She shrieks, flapping her heels at him like she's on a horse. "Your brother's coming and he's only carryin' little Jane."

I laugh, breaking into a run as well when Em, and a howling veterinarian, come blasting past me after Edward and Rose.

The dozen of us still standing, Alistair and Siobhan failed over into a nearby flower bed, make it to the bottom of the steep street in one piece.

"See." Em says proudly as he deposits Jane on her now shaky feet. "I told you there was a diner at the bottom of the hill!"

"_Food_." Ben groans, shoving the door open and heading the charge inside.

...

Food did for some of the rest of us, even Rose who sleepily commanded her Romeo take her to bed, they caught a cab with Alistair who'd sprained an ankle, and Siobhan, who seemed determined to look after him. Ben and Angela sloped off somewhere, every inch the self sufficient couple they were in college and one by one the others all drifted away until it was just Edward and I, snuggled together for warmth on a park bench, watching the sun rise over the bay.

"Cold?" He asks as I shiver.

"A bit."

"Here." He says, shifting me easily to straddle his lap, making sure his jacket stays round my shoulders as his arms circle me loosely underneath it. "Better?"

Words fail me so I just stare at him dumbly.

"What's the matter?" He asks quietly.

"This could be construed as an extremely compromising position." I point out, my voice a little hoarse.

"It's just us." He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

I can't help my reaction, my breathing spikes and he pulls back slightly, eyes darkening as his hands flex on my back.

"God Bella." He groans, face inching forward again.

"Edward . . . ." I protest but he closes his eyes and leans back with a slight shake of his head.

"Don't." He breathes. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I've been thinking about kissing you all weekend."

"You're not the only one." I admit after a brief internal debate. "But you can't say things like that to me Edward Cullen, you know I have zero self control where you're concerned."

"Still?" He asks, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

"Still." I confirm with a light laugh, watching his ego and his smile bloom in the early sunlight.

"Then I probably shouldn't tell you how badly my hands are itching to slide down your body, and up under your skirt, where they can feel the soft skin of your thighs, huh?"

"No, you really shouldn't. Totally inappropriate."

He sighs, letting the sun play on his chiselled features and emerging scruff, he really shouldn't be allowed to be so stupidly handsome.

"Come on." He says after a moment, opening his eyes which are back to sparkling with humour. "Lets get back to the hotel, I can't remember which insanity Em has organised for this afternoon but I'm getting old and I'll need at least a couple of hours sleep beforehand."

He stands up, lifting me easily with him and then lets me slide slowly down his body till my feet are on the ground, unashamedly letting me feel how hard he is on the way.

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, which just makes him laugh as he grabs my hand and drags me off in search of a cab.

...

Loud banging wakes me from my slumber some time later.

"Are you up?" Rose demands.

"I am now." I grumble, rolling out of bed and over to the door.

She sweeps in with Char hot on her heels.

"What's up?" I ask, attempting to cover my gargantuan yawn.

Char produces her ultra light laptop from behind her back and swivels it so I can see the screen properly.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God." I groan, collapsing onto the bed like my strings have been cut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 7 Mystery Hunk**

**BPOV**

It was the most innocuous photograph that was the worst.

The first was of Edward and I snuggled under his jacket in the park, heads together, talking.

The second was of me straddling his lap on the bench, taken from behind with his hands hidden under the jacket, and if you wanted to believe we were kissing, or more, then I suppose you could convince yourself.

But the absolute worst was the last. It must have been taken just after he slid me down his body. We were silhouetted against the skyline, pressed together, him looking down, me looking up. We look like the only two people in the world, locked in a perfect moment.

We look like we're in love.

'La Belle Bella and Mystery Hunk Love it Up in San Francisco.' The caption said.

"They're going to find out who he is." I whisper, thinking of his occasional TV appearances and blog as 'The Racehorse Vet', not to mention the attention my being in Mexico garnered for their wedding.

"It's likely." Char says, making herself comfortable beside me as Rose perches on the other side.

"We didn't even do anything." I half laugh, thinking of my less than stellar reputation. "We wouldn't."

"_We_ know that Bella." Rose says gently, slinging her arm around my shoulder.

"But nobody else is going to believe it." I point out, and neither of them corrects me.

"Does he know?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Is he . . . ."

"I don't know Bella, Em's with him." Rose says gently. "I'm only worried about you."

"I don't matter. I'm used to it. This isn't fair on Edward. Or Tanya."

"Of course you matter . . . ." Rose begins to object.

"No." I shake my head, pulling away from them and heading for the bathroom.

When I emerge after a scorching hot shower its only Rose that's waiting for me.

"What happened?" She asks, wrapping her arm around me as I lie down beside her, my head on her shoulder.

"We don't have time for . . . ."

"Yes we do, Char's got Felix organising to get us all home and Demetri to look out for you. What happened?"

"We were just fooling around, you know the way we do. Despite what it looks like nothing happened, nothing was going to, I wouldn't do that, to him, to any of you."

"You know a photograph tells a thousand words?"

"Rose, you know we wouldn't . . . ."

"I know that Bella, we _all_ know that, and I don't give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. But Bella, that last one, damn girl."

"It's just a picture Rose, taken out of context."

Silence.

"You know." She says hesitantly. "I asked him once."

"Asked him what?"

"If he was in love with you."

"What the fuck?" I growl, pulling up on my elbow to glare at her.

"Do you remember that night at Netta's?"

"Which one?" I ask, my ire dissolving with the time gulf she's referring to, that was college.

"Good question." She laughs as my head plops back down on her shoulder. "Tequila shot night, Em challenged you."

"Oh god yes. Foolish, foolish Bella, I was sick for a week."

"Yeah, even your eyeballs were green. I wasn't deliberately prying I was just wanted to know what his intentions were, I wanted to protect my little waif from Phoenix from the attentions of a sexual predator."

I snort. The little waif from Phoenix. I was that, once.

"I thought you'd fall in love with him and he'd break your heart."

"He didn't break my heart." I sigh. "He wasn't that kind of sexual predator."

"Yeah. He was. With every girl except you. You were different. You weren't even his usual type." She waggles a clump of her hair at me to illustrate Edward's preferences. "I was worried that he didn't realise that."

"Did he?" I ask quietly, morbidly fascinated.

"Realise you were different? Yeah. He knew."

I'm quiet for a moment, wondering at the stuff that goes on around your life you never normally get to find out about. But this is history and not really pertinent to the current clusterfuck.

"Do you think I should talk to Tanya?"

"Hell no!" She snorts, shaking her head vigorously. "No offence but if it was me you'd be the last person I'd want to hear from just yet. I'd be waiting to see the whites of Em's eyes while he told me exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing and how he was going to make it up to me."

"I guess, but if it weren't for some creep recognising me this whole lot of nothing would never become an issue, I feel like I should explain. Fuck Rose, the wedding's in a week."

"You shouldn't need to explain anything. This is between them. She knows his reputation and frankly it's a lot worse than yours. You're a strong independent woman and my brother-in-law is just a horny little toad. Anyway, the point is, they're getting married and if she isn't going to believe what he tells her then she shouldn't be queuing up The Wedding March any time soon."

"I should at least apologise to Edward."

"And he should apologise to you too."

"He didn't do anything wrong."

"Has anyone ever told you don't see that man very clearly?"

"Yes. You. More than once."

...

Between Char, Rose, Em, Felix and I we managed to get everyone out of the hotel and on their way home before the press realised who the 'Mystery Hunk' actually was. Still feeling awful, and not having had a chance to talk to Edward, I sent Demetri to look out for Tanya, who was being hounded by a load of paps.

Aro released a statement on behalf of Edward and me explaining that we were old friends and the intrusive pictures had been published completely out of context and my lawyers commenced sabre rattling at the gossip site. Not something I normally bother to do but this is damaging to people I care about and for once I feel compelled to defend myself.

...

I let myself back into my apartment with a weary sigh, not bothering with the lights, and collapse on the bed.

What a fucking day.

In the absence of Demetri, Felix very kindly met me at the airport and drove me home, his huge frame at least protecting me from the worst of the crush. The shouted questions were hardly surprising and I blocked them out, staring ahead stonily until we escaped.

It'll die down, it always does.

My cell rings and I pick it up, not sure if I want to talk to anyone else tonight. I've already apologised to Esme, who took the same approach as Rose. And left a voicemail for Edward who was probably too busy to listen to me apologise given the circumstances.

Rose's picture is flashing on the screen.

"Hi." I greet her.

"Hi yourself. Get home okay?"

"Yes thanks, you guys?"

"Same. I'm exhausted."

"Me too."

She takes a deep breath.

"What?" I ask. "Spit it out Rose, it can't get any worse."

"Tanya called me."

"Ah. Is she okay?"

"Not really. Edward's dumped her and called the wedding off."

"What?!"

"She said he told her nothing happened and she believed him."

"So what's the problem?"

"He said, and I quote 'Nothing happened Tanya, I wouldn't do that to you and neither would Bella, but I wanted it to. I shouldn't have asked you to marry me, I'm sorry, I'm not ready.'"

"Jesus Christ, poor Tanya."

"Yeah." She says with a heavy sigh. "She's gutted, she really loves him. I know she's been a bit of a dick about the wedding but I honestly think that's more Ma Denali and that Irina bitch than her."

"Do you think I should call her?"

"I don't know Bella, do what feels right. She's not blaming you, she even said to thank you for Demetri, said she wouldn't have been able to handle it without him there to fend everyone off."

"She can keep him as long as she needs him."

"Why don't you call and tell her that? It's an opener."

"How's Esme handling it?"

"She seems okay, she only left our house a few minutes ago, she's furious with Edward, he hasn't called and told her what's going on, she found out from Margaret, and let me tell you it doesn't sound like _that_ woman will be sending Suaveward a Christmas card this year."

"You can't really blame her."

"I suppose not. Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know, I need my bed. Em's out somewhere tying one on with the ex-Groom so I'm not expecting him back anytime soon."

"Thanks for letting me know."

"No worries, give Esme a call in the morning, she's worried about you."

"Okay, I will, night."

"Night Cyggers."

I ring Demetri quickly to ask if he's okay hanging out with Tanya for a few more days and he's fine with that as long as I promise not to go wandering around anywhere on my own.

I dial Tanya's cell somewhat nervously but it goes straight to voicemail.

"Hi, Tanya, it's Bella. I'm really sorry, about everything. Demetri's happy to stay with you if you want him to, I'd recommend it, if you don't mind, he'll keep everyone off your back. I'm, um, sorry. Bye."

Then I strip out of my clothes and huddle under the cold sheets.

...

I wake up at six and check my messages but there's only one voicemail that lingers with me on the treadmill.

Edward;

'Bella, sorry for calling so late. And so drunk. I'm sorry for dragging you into my shit. Really sorry. I told Tanya I don't love her. Really sorry about that too, she's upset and I never meant to hurt her. I'm an asshole. I . . . . never mind . . . . I only called to let you know I'm sorry and I hope . . . . no never mind that either . . . . sorry really drunk . . . . so yeah, I hope you're okay, bye.'

...

I get to the office a little after eight thirty, which is okay, I wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow anyway, and it takes me an hour or two to wade through my emails. I sometimes wonder what I'd tell anyone who actually asks what I do all day because a lot of the time I'm pretty much getting paid to read. Business proposals, reports, budgets, accounts, emails I've been cc'd on to give the sender credibility. Requests for donations, interviews, appearances. When I'm not reading something I'm signing something, usually electronically, authorising something to be done somewhere in the organisation, a recruitment, a capital purchase, a pay rise or promotion. Where I really come into my own and actually do something is meeting with people, strategy, coaching, acquisitions, integrations, disposals, the big stuff about where the company is going and how it's going to get there. I'm good at it, despite some of the business press who still like to portray me as an eye candy figurehead even though there's plenty of evidence to the contrary. The Board wouldn't agree with the wannabe tycoons of the press though, my contract renewal is one of the things in my inbox.

Being a bit of a luddite I print it off and settle down on one the couches to read it, kicking my heels off. I can't concentrate very well with them on, no idea why . . . .

...

"Thought I'd find you here." Char huffs, waddling in a couple of hours later.

"You're not supposed to be here either." I laugh, getting up to give her a hug before she lowers herself cautiously onto the other couch.

"Pete's had to go into the office so I thought I'd come over for a post mortem on the Denali / Cullen wedding, it's in all the papers."

"I haven't looked." I admit.

"Don't." She says, with a grimace. "They're all blaming you. No personal trainer, model, journalist, high profile sportsman or Veterinarian is safe from your evil seductress ways apparently."

"Figures."

"Whatcha reading?"

"New contract."

"They giving you a pay raise?"

"Yep. Dirty great big one."

"That's nice."

"I guess." I shrug.

"What are you gonna do with our newly free weekend?" She asks after a few beats of silence.

"No idea, catch up on work I suppose, there's something going on in the shipping division that could do with a little digging."

"Let Felix dig, he looks like he can wield a hefty shovel. Ma Cullen's invited us all down for the weekend."

"She mentioned it this morning, I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Cullen Clan's closing ranks over its own." Char drawls. "That means you too, gotta be better to hang out with the fam than stay here on your own."

"Seems a little harsh on Tanya."

"I guess, but the fact is she didn't get him down the aisle quick enough, nothing we can do about it now."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 8 Home**

**BPOV**

Everyone else is already there when Char, Pete and I arrive Friday night, gathered out on the back deck barbequing up a storm despite the late season chill coming off the sea.

This is what I love about the Cullens, there's no awkwardness, no undercurrents, just a family that's easily expanded to accommodate a few more of us over the years, getting together to get us all over a rough patch.

Even the enormous wedding cake sitting bizarrely in the middle of the kitchen counter isn't intended as an admonishment, it's just a pragmatic realisation that the damn thing needs to be eaten. Or, if you're Em, a challenge.

Inevitably though the reason we're here and not whooping it up in a hotel down the road comes up in conversation.

But not until we've all eaten ourselves into our pyjamas and the Cullen's awesome family room.

"When do you go back to Kentucky?" Pete asks Edward as we're letting our well fed bellies stretch out.

"I'm not due back for a couple of weeks." Edward shrugs. "I might head back sooner though, fortunately I haven't leased out my apartment yet."

"What are you going to do with that gorgeous house the pair of you bought?" Alice asks.

"Sell it I suppose. I don't think Tanya would ever have moved to Kentucky of her own accord and it was never really my taste."

"Too modern for you." Alice laughs.

"Too much glass and polished stone, it would have been like living in airport terminal."

"I did wonder why you bought it." Esme chuckles.

Edward just shrugs again, clearly not really wanting to talk about it and a hush falls.

"Come on." Carlisle decides, getting to his feet and dragging Esme with him. "Lets get to bed and let the younger generation cut loose without us."

There's a chorus of good nights and a round of smiles until the door closes behind them.

"Right." Em says, producing a baggie and flinging it at Rose. "Skin up my Deftly Fingered Reason for Existence, I bought this because I didn't think any of us would want to get drunk the night before the wedding."

"You bought this because you knew I'd kill you if _you_ did." She snorts, leaning forward to use the coffee table.

"Now, now." He chuckles. "You'd better roll Edward one of his own, he's not looking nearly morose enough yet."

"Fuck you." Edward grins, flipping his brother the finger.

"Ali sweetie." Em says, ignoring him. "Stick a movie on, we don't care if it's a chick flick."

"I know just the thing." She laughs, getting up to rifle in the cabinet.

Edward takes the first hit of the joint and nearly chokes on it as we all start laughing.

"Runaway Bride? Seriously. You suck."

"We thought you might need some pointers for next time." Jasper laughs, slapping him heartily on the back.

"Fuck." Edward groans, wiping his watering eyes and handing the joint on.

"Are we getting dressed up tomorrow?" Alice asks earning her a collective groan.

"Alice, babe." Rose drawls. "That's a bit, um, help me out Em."

"Sick? Twisted? In poor taste?"

"Its not." Alice objects as Jasper pats her knee consolingly. "I love my dress, and my hat, what if I never get to wear them?"

"Save it for his next wedding." Pete suggests, taking a drag on the rapidly diminishing joint and passing it to me over Char, who has shaken her head for obvious reasons.

"Pfft." Rose snorts, handing off the next one she's rolled to Em. "It'll be a cold day in hell before he can persuade any other woman to take him seriously."

"Could we please not talk about me like I'm not here?" Edward asks.

"No." Em responds without looking at him. "You can wear your frock tomorrow if you want Ali, we can pretend he's getting married, like aversion therapy or something."

"What _are_ we doing tomorrow?" I ask sensibly.

"Good question Cyggers." Em laughs. "We're not sitting around here moping all day that's for sure."

"Well we're not going out on the razz either." Rose points out. "That would hardly be fair to Tanya."

We all nod and Edward shifts uncomfortably, frowning.

"Hey." Em says, levelling a pointed look at him. "You fucked up dude, might as well start learning to live with it. Unless you want us to help you stage a last minute attempt to win her back?"

The two brothers stare at each other for a moment and Edward looks away first.

"I apologise." He says quietly. "To all of you and to her. I should never have let it get this far. I knew I didn't love her but I hoped . . . ."

We gape at him for a moment, that, for Edward, a man who rarely if ever reveals anything, is quite a statement.

"Bro." Em says gently, leaning over to pass his brother a joint. "I can't deny that you should have manned up to it sooner, for Tanya's sake, but we're your family, none of us would have wanted to see you do something that didn't make you happy."

"Thanks Em." Edward murmurs and we all swallow back the lumps in our throats as they hug.

"Fabulous." Rose drawls. "But that doesn't solve the problem of what we're going to do tomorrow."

"Let's take the boat out." Em suggests. "No one can bother us then."

That pleases everyone except Edward and me.

Oh well . . . .

...

I'm warm. And comfortable. And not a little bit turned on.

Mmm. Sex dream . . . .

A huge body is spooned up behind me, almost smothering me into the cushions, warm breath on my neck.

Mmm. Goosebumps.

I arch my back and the warm weight shifts to cover me, hips rolling languidly into mine.

Mmm. The hand on my stomach clenches and releases with the rolling hips. Rhythmic. Hypnotic.

"Want." A sleepy voice rasps in my ear. "Need."

Mmm. Me too. My hips push back, rubbing my ass into the hardness pressing against it.

"Bella, want you so much."

I moan in response pushing back again as the hand slides down my body, which clearly thinks him having me is a very good idea right now. My brain, however, is now wise to the fact that I'm not asleep.

"Edward." I hiss, jabbing him in the solar plexus with my elbow. "Sleep humping. Not nice."

"Is." He groans, hand sliding down inside my pyjama bottoms. "Very nice."

His long fingers are just about to quest under the lace of my panties, and my body is all set to let them, when my brain decides that enough is enough.

"Edward. Stop. Today is your wedding day."

He groans again, rolling away from me.

"That did the trick." He sighs. "I'm sorry Bella, apparently my self control is no good around you either."

"That's not me." I murmur as I snuggle back down into the cushions, resolutely ignoring my body which isn't best pleased with my brain. "That's the Dawn Horn. Take it in the bathroom."

"No need." He drawls. "I think you've killed it. I may never get an erection again."

"Trying to sleep here."

"I'm cold now." He complains.

"Fine." I huff, rolling over and burrowing into his side. "Better?"

"Much better."

...

"_Aw_." I hear someone sigh when I surface again later. "Should we wake them up?"

"No." Esme replies with a smile in her voice. "Leave them be, they'll get up when they're ready and they both get seasick anyway."

The family room door closes softly and I open my eyes.

The drapes are filtering out most of the light but I can see his profile clearly from where I lie clamped to his side. I've woken up with him more times than I can count but not for quite a few years now. It should feel uncomfortable but it doesn't, in an odd way despite all the elapsed time, it's just us. Funny how easily and quickly you can slip back into _some_ of your old habits.

The clock on the wall says its after ten, I really should get up. Maybe another five minutes . . . .

...

My nose twitches, it's warm and moist and this is very, very wrong.

But the smell isn't.

"Coffee?" Edward asks as I crack my eyes open.

My eyes slide past him to the clock. Noon. Then they're pulled back to the steaming mug.

He wafts it gently, laughing when my eyes follow it like a cat with a toy.

"You'll have to sit up, I'm not holding it for you."

"Useless." I huff, wriggling upright and holding my hands out.

"Have they gone sailing?" I ask after I've taken a sip and he's propped himself up beside me with his own mug.

"They have, pretty stellar sleeping in on our part to have 'missed the boat'."

We chink mugs, laughing. Esme was right, Edward and I usually end up below decks sharing a bowl and a strong desire to be back on dry land.

He picks up the remote and flicks the TV on, and by unspoken agreement we settle down to idle the afternoon away.

And eventually I find the courage I've been looking for.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" He asks, muting the TV.

"For everything that happened, you'd be married now if it weren't for me and my crazy life."

"Bella, I don't know where to start with what's wrong with that statement. Did you not listen to my message, hear what I said last night?"

I nod, focussing on Storage Wars Texas.

"I didn't love her. I never loved her. I don't think I have it in me to do that, with anyone. I'm the defective Cullen that proves the rule."

"Then why . . . . no scrub that, it's none of my business."

"Why did I ask her to marry me? That's a long story . . . ."

A door bangs open and noisy life returns to the house, invading our still darkened sanctuary.

"Jesus Christ!" Em exclaims, barging in. "You could have at least showered and dressed while we were out, what's wrong with you people?"

...

Esme orders dinner in and Carlisle to open the wine.

Here we go . . . .

...

An unquantifiable number of hours later I find myself topping and tailing with her on one of the couches.

Competitive shouting is happening somewhere else is the house but we're in a relative oasis of calm.

"I'm glad you came." She sighs, sipping her wine. "I worry about you being lonely in New York, especially with Jake gone."

"I'm too busy to be lonely."

She snorts and I dip my head in acknowledgement.

"I'm too busy to _worry_ about it much." I clarify.

"We're very proud of you." She murmurs. "But it's in our nature to worry."

"You don't need to worry about me." I assure her. "I've developed something of an outer shell."

"That's what worries us. Shells crack Bella. Especially when they're protecting more than they were designed for."

I swirl my wine, contemplating it before deciding to open up a bit.

"I sometimes wonder whose life it is I've blundered into. I'm living it and doing my best, but, it just doesn't feel right some days. Does that make any sense?"

"For you? Yes. You were such a quiet shy thing the first time I met you. So unsure of yourself. And I love the way you've grown, but none of us could have predicted how it would happen. It must take some getting used to."

"I've been very lucky." I admit, draining my glass.

"I want to thank you, for being here for Edward this weekend."

"I haven't done anything."

"You have. Trust me."

"I'm sorry things didn't work out for him, for you. It would have been nice for them to have balanced out the family."

"Pfft. Bella. This family has been balanced for years. I'm sad for him but I remain hopeful that everything will turn out right in the long run."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 9 Pigskins & Ponies**

**BPOV**

Sunday is another lazy day, this time for all of us.

Esme went ahead with the catered brunch she'd had planned when she was expecting to be relaxed and happy following the marriage of her youngest son.

We all just made pigs of ourselves.

I felt a little sad for Edward when we all went back to our lives that night, he should have been on a plane to Africa, starting his new life with a lavish honeymoon, not camped out in his old bedroom at his Ma and Pa's. I almost invited him to spend a couple of days in New York with us but stopped myself just in time, that would _so_ not look good in the press . . . .

...

Of course when I get back work consumes me, taking over everything the way it always does.

Felix has indeed wielded a hefty shovel in my absence and the deeds of Senior Management in the Shipping Division are going to require a visit from the Boss. An immediate visit of the unannounced, frowny faced, variety.

Lauren dutifully rearranges our schedules since it won't hurt to drop in and surprise a few other Leadership Teams once the word spreads . . . . .

...

"Morning." I greet the Receptionist as I breeze into their foyer in Newport News.

"Good morning." She says brightly, giving Felix's imposing frame an appreciative once over.

"Bella Swan." I say. "Here to see Royce King."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I don't need one." I inform her with a wide smile.

"O-kay, I'll just see if Mr King is free." She murmurs, tapping the screen in front of her to call up his number.

"Mr King? Cheryl here. There's a Bella Swan in Reception for you."

Pause.

"Yes Mr King, I will tell her that. Yes Sir."

She removes her headset, appraising _me_ this time.

"He says he'll be _right_ down Ms Swan."

"I just bet he will." I chuckle. "Thank you Cheryl."

"Royce." I greet him as he huffs and puffs his portly frame into view. "How lovely to see you again. Boardroom free?"

"Of course Bella, to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

I heft Felix's lengthy report out of my laptop bag and wave it at him, with some difficulty admittedly, since it's pretty much a whole ream of paper.

"Just a couple of little things we need to go over. Is everybody in?"

"They can be."

"Make it so Royce, make it so."

...

I'm exhausted by the time Felix and I make it back to the hotel later that night.

I don't like being a hardass, the effort drains me, but it goes with the job.

Royce for definite is going to get his saggy _dishonest_ ass fired, the jury is out on the other fuckers, others in my organisation will take it from here.

"Dinner?" Felix asks as we check in.

"Not tonight, sorry, it's been a rough couple of weeks."

Felix laughs and then tries to hide it and I smile when I look away. He has a sense of humour, he and I'll rub along fine eventually.

We take our keys and ride up together in the elevator.

"Thank you." I tell him as I get off at my floor. "You did good work there."

"It was my pleasure Bella." He says, his cheeks going a bit pink.

Bless.

"I'll see you for breakfast, seven thirty?"

He nods as the doors slide closed.

My shoulders slump, god I'm tired . . . .

...

Done with my unpacking, such as it is, I spend a few minutes contemplating my cell.

We'll be in Louisville in a few days and I don't know if I should call Edward or not.

There are many reasons to be unsure.

History. Me. Him. Recent events.

Fuck it, he's a friend.

'Visiting near your backwater for a day or two, fancy a beer?' I text, and then I shove my cell aside and make for the shower.

When I get back he's replied.

'Rude! Always. When?'

'Friday.'

'Want to come to Churchill Downs on Saturday?' He responds immediately.

'Sure, you can show me what all the fuss is about.'

'Lol. Pigskins and Ponies.'

'That sounds incredibly wrong.'

'You'll get the hang of it, you're a smart woman.'

...

Felix and I spend a couple of days in Cincinnati, which is still a bit of a mess but steadily improving, before ending the week at the Air Freight Division in Louisville. No problems there, they're one of our slickest operations, but pats on the back achieve more than spankings in the long run. I drop him at the airport on the way back to the hotel, he's going back to New York to spend the weekend with his husband and daughter, and will meet me in Florida on Monday night.

I've a couple of hours to kill before I meet Edward and frankly a long soak, and possibly nap, in the tub, is on the cards.

...

A text diverts my attention from the financial report I'm reading.

'Downstairs. Casually dressed. Hotel staff giving me stink eye. Please hurry.'

'Two minutes.' I respond, swinging my feet off the bed and grabbing my purse.

...

I take the stairs two at a time and arrive in the lobby to find him deep in conversation with a very flustered looking receptionist.

Stink eye my ass, fuck eye more like.

He might not be dressed for such an expensive hotel but even in flannel, jeans and work boots he looks like he belongs here.

Since I'm wearing converse and not heels I manage to sneak up on him, almost, he spins at the last minute, grabbing me and pulling me into his side.

"Angelita, this is the woman I was telling you about. My friend Bella. I'm going to take her out and get her incredibly drunk."

"I hope you enjoy your evening Ms Swan." She says politely, possibly wishing anything but.

"I will, thank you." I assure her.

Edward wheels me away and we start for the door.

"There will be no 'incredibly drunk'." I growl at him.

"I've booked a room in this exorbitantly priced marble palace." He drawls. "So I had better not be returning to it in a state of complete sobriety."

...

"No!" I howl. "No, no, no!"

"Yes." He says, nodding sagely. "Every time you bent over for three years."

"Edward, no. He was my favourite Professor!"

"He was a total perv." He chuckles. "He knew more about your ass than he did his elected subject."

"Why must you strip away my illusions?" I whine, grabbing my glass and realising its empty.

"More beer?" He asks, draining the last of his.

"I think I should probably eat something first."

"Excellent suggestion, I know just the place."

...

"This is awesome." I moan around my burger.

"Bella." He says shaking his head. "Do you eat like this at your fancy business dinners?"

"Pfft. No. I pick at my rabbit food just like all the other women do."

"No wonder you're always hungry."

"You have no idea." I tell him, taking a swig of my soda. "I've been known to stash a bag of chips in my purse and keep going to the restroom. I'm surprised no one's started a rumour I'm a cokehead."

"That's . . . . a little bit gross."

"The cocaine or the chips?"

"Duh. The eating in the restroom."

"Needs must Edward, needs must. At least I don't have to stuff my arm up a horse's vag to earn a living."

He tries to scowl at me but fails miserably.

I always could make him laugh.

...

On the stroke of midnight we leave the bar we're in and wend our way back to the hotel, both of us yawning and ready for our beds.

We exit the elevator on my floor and he walks me to my door, pulling me in for a hug.

"What time do I need to be up in the morning?" I ask him as I hug him back.

"There's no rush, racing doesn't start till after lunch, I'll meet you downstairs at noon if that's okay, I've got some stuff to do while I'm in town. We can grab something to eat at the track."

"Okay, do I need to get dressed up?"

"Nope, you'll be fine as you are."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Night Edward."

"Night Bella."

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"You'll have to let me go so I can open my door."

"Ah, yes, I can see that."

We continue to stand there for a bit longer. He's an excellent giver of hugs and I'm a willing recipient.

"You should let me go now." I sigh eventually.

"Sheesh, Bella, I've had a very traumatic time these past weeks and you're rationing the hugs already?"

"I really need to get to bed Edward, I'm dead on my feet."

He presses a kiss to the top of my head as he releases me.

"Night Bella."

"Night Edward."

...

The following day he hurries into Reception a couple of minutes late, apologising profusely and clearly distracted as he hustles me outside.

"This is different." I observe as he unlocks a dark blue truck. "What happened to the stupid shiny Volvo? You were _totally_ in love with that thing."

"It's been years." He points out as he starts the engine. "And it died."

"What?"

"Expired. Ceased to be."

"What happened to it?"

"It got in an argument with a very strong willed Kentucky tree. The tree won."

"Oh."

"Wet road and very tired newly qualified veterinarian." He laughs. "God bless the air bags though."

"You always did drive like a lunatic."

"And yet here you are." He says dryly as he starts the engine.

I laugh and surreptitiously grab a hold of the door handle as he peels out of the lot deliberately.

We're silent as we drive out of the city and I take the time to look around. It's beautiful here, lush green trees set in wide open spaces, quite a bit different to the sinister trees on The Olympic Peninsula where I did part of my growing up.

Eventually I glance over at him. Edward's always been prone to a bit of brooding and I can't help but wonder what's got him going today, his brow furrowed slightly as he concentrates on the road.

"Did you get everything done you needed to?" I ask eventually.

"Yeah, just needed to sign some stuff to do with the house."

"Ah." Now I know why he's more subdued this morning. "Sorry."

"It had to be done." He shrugs.

And that's the end of that. Edward and I have been friends for years and I probably knew him as well as anybody did back in the day but I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of 'personal' conversations we've had. He nearly opened up last week but I'm hesitant to push him today so we lapse back into silence. It's not like I ever want to tell anybody anything either.

Being Edward, and basically the owner of a cheerful disposition, he seems to have shaken himself out of it by the time we get to the track.

Turns out the pigskins referred to the football on the big screens and the ponies were the horses, who knew?

I've always loved horses, though for the record they don't seem to like me very much, but there was something truly beautiful about these glossy athletic thoroughbreds and I could sort of see where Edward got his obsession from.

We sat in the stands drinking soda and eating junk while he painstakingly explained the sport to me, occasionally breaking off to catch up on the football. The sun was shining and the atmosphere was positively charged and all in all I think this will be one of those Kodak moments that I'll always remember, a bit like the time Charlie took seven year old me to Disneyland and Minnie Mouse gave me a hug.

"Dinner?" Edward asks as we stroll back to the truck at the end of the day.

"If you don't need to get home." I demur, sure that he can't just drop everything because I've blown into town.

"We're good." He says with a grin. "But I will have to do a Cinderella on you, I'm on duty from midnight."

"Fair enough."

...

We decided on pizza, you can't really go wrong with pizza.

My cell chimes while we're eating and I check to find an email from Rose, there are no words, just a link to a gossip site.

With a sinking heart I click on it.

It's not as bad as it could have been and I suppose Churchill Downs is the sort of place where you're likely to get recognised by a professional.

"What?" Edward asks as I chew my lip, so I show him my cell.

The picture is of the two us in the stands, jean clad knees together as I'd tried to mash his hotdog in his face when he'd made a rude comment about my poor betting choice in the previous race.

He smiles, it is a good picture, a happy one, and then frowns slightly.

"I'm sorry Edward."

He waves me off.

"Tanya might see it."

"She knows we're friends Bella and she knows you get photographed a lot."

"It's just so soon after . . . ."

"Bella, we've been photographed together before over the years and I'm not losing a friend just because she's famous, I don't care what anyone else thinks about this. We had a good time today and that photo captures it perfectly. I _will_ regret it if Tanya sees it and it upsets her, but it can't be helped and we haven't done anything wrong."

"I guess. Why the frown though?"

He looks at me speculatively for a moment.

"I've always wondered how you stand it? All the attention and speculation, it's not really very 'you'."

"It was a mistake." I admit, remembering . . . .

When I first took over as CEO at Cask there was, understandably, a lot of media interest in such a young _woman_ getting such a huge opportunity. The Board thought, and I can understand why, that it would be a good idea to court it to a degree, that's how Aro first came into my life. He overhauled my 'strictly business' wardrobe, rounded off my rough edges and got me seen in all the right places with all the right people. I even enjoyed it for a while, I might have been a CEO, but I was still _young_. Unfortunately, and I've no idea why, something about me captured people's imaginations and though I tried to be less visible when I realised what the fame truly meant, it was too late. Living in New York didn't help either.

"So I just learned to live with it." I finish with a shrug. "It doesn't matter what they say about me but it pisses me off when they drag other people into it."

"What?" I ask when I realise he's looking at me funny.

"Nothing. Sorry. Dessert?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 10 Beer Before Wine**

**BPOV**

It's a brave new world. The same but different.

Char's now officially left Cask but we're still managing to meet up for lunch almost every day, though I'm starting to wonder if we should have a midwife accompany us rather than Demetri.

Unsurprisingly it was Tanya's BFF Irina that spilled all the messy, but deliberately misconstrued, details to the press. Edward and Tanya's failure to launch made one of the glossy magazines. She basically threw her best friend under the bus, making her sound vapid and oblivious to the fact that Edward and I had been carrying on like bunnies behind her back for their whole relationship. She also managed to make the Cullens sound like vicious snobs who disdained and belittled Tanya and her family at every turn. She even insinuated that Carlisle made a play for her on more than one occasion, which at least made Esme laugh, since they'd never met Irina and even Carlisle's mojo doesn't work over long distances.

I'm not without contacts, or rather Aro, and it didn't take him long to find out how much the scummy bitch got paid for singing like a canary. And this time my lawyers didn't rattle their sabres, they disembowelled the publishing company and frightened the 'nouveau riche' shit out of Irina. After consultation with Esme we sent the resultant cash to our favourite kids charity.

And the Old Man taught me many things. An expose of Irina's father's shady business dealings didn't take long to appear in the business press. There were plenty of even more unpleasant things I could have done, turns out Irina is a bit of a slut, but I didn't. Not that I wasn't tempted. Oh so very tempted.

And when all that had faded into obscurity, as it always does, I signed my new contract and went about the business of business, and becoming 'auntie' to the world's cutest twins.

...

I giggle at his text.

'Visiting your concrete jungle for a day or two, fancy a beer?'

'Rude! Always. When?' I text back.

'Weds, Thurs, Fri next week. Convention.'

'Horse doctors have conventions in NY? How does that work?'

'We're people too you know. We like to live it up occasionally and shake the muck from our boots.'

'Fairy snuff.'

There's a long pause.

'Show me the city if I stay the weekend?'

There's another long pause while I consider that, it's been a month, what harm can it do?

'Of course I will.'

...

"I'm disappointed." He says with a grin as a rather stunned Lauren ushers him into my office that Friday night. "Aren't you supposed to be hanging out on the top floor?"

"There's nothing wrong with the twelfth floor Edward." I laugh, returning his bear hug. "The rest of the building is rented out these days, it's a good money spinner."

"Can I get you anything Bella?" Lauren asks as we break apart.

"No and thank you for your help today, you can take off if you want, I'm not doing anymore tonight."

"Have a good weekend Bella. Mr Cullen."

"You too." Edward says, awarding her his best crooked grin.

Her jaw goes slack and her pupils dilate as she turns to leave.

"Cut that out." I grumble, slapping his bicep.

"What?"

"Never mind. What do you want to do tonight?"

"Whatever you want to do."

"You're the visitor." I remind him.

"How about we stay in with beer? Three days looking at PowerPoint presentations and talking about laminitis has robbed me of the desire to do anything more thrilling, at least for tonight."

"Okay, if you're sure?"

He nods.

"Just give me a minute to pack up and we'll go pick something up for dinner."

"You're not cooking are you?" He asks with mock horror.

"No Edward." I laugh, flipping him the finger. "You are."

...

"Spaghetti Bolognaise?"

"You love my Spaghetti Bolognaise." He reminds me while he makes a great show of feeling up an onion with his long fingers.

"True."

"Make yourself useful and grab some beer while I furckle the produce."

"Only you can make that sound rude." I huff as I walk away.

"And some garlic bread." He calls after me. "I'm too lazy to make it."

...

My poor 'culinary space' doesn't know what's hit it and neither do I. Edward takes after Esme, he does not believe in cooking alone, but unlike his Mom he's something of a martinet about it.

"God you're bossy." I complain as I wash the mushrooms under the faucet according to his exact instructions.

"Quit complaining you can shower in a minute but if we don't start dinner first we'll be eating at midnight."

...

Half an hour later I emerge from the shower to the enticing smell of cooking, real food for once, and I decide to forgive him his Gordon Ramsey tendencies.

I towel dry my hair, twisting it up out of my way and throw on some sweats hurrying out of my room to find Edward, already be-sweated, taking up all the room on my couch with two beers open and waiting on the coffee table.

He has also laid claim to the remote and is flicking channels like a dedicated pro.

"What do you fancy?" He asks as I squeeze myself in past his bare feet.

"They'd better be clean." I growl as he deposits them casually in my lap.

"Of course, I did have a shower Bella, it just doesn't take me as long as it does you." And he waggles a very clean looking big toe in my face.

"Ew."

"Some women find my feet very attractive."

"I am _not_ some women."

"Good." He decides. "In that case you won't mind if we start with an action movie."

...

"This is all wrong." He complains as we sprawl back on the couch after dinner.

"What is?" I ask, sipping my wine.

"You're at the wrong end of the couch, how am I going to hug you from there?"

"Hug a cushion." I suggest, grabbing the remote since it's my turn to pick a movie.

"Bella." He sighs, and I can hear the smile in his voice even though I'm deliberately not looking at him. "It is not my fault that you are the perfect size, shape and texture for hugging."

"That's so cheesy." I snicker. "Does that ever work?"

He opens his arms and pouts and I roll my eyes at myself as I edge down the couch and settle back against him.

"Better?"

"Much." He says, and then. "You're going to punish me for this aren't you?"

"Oh yes, I've just noticed Dirty Dancing is on and I haven't seen it for _years_."

And I smirk to myself as I turn up the volume, Edward always _hated_ this movie.

Of course I'm unsurprised to wake up some time later, in darkness, curled up in Edward's arms on the couch. I've missed this, being held, Jake and I didn't work properly on many levels but he used to sleep with his arms wrapped tightly round me. Subconsciously he was probably just trying to prevent me escaping, but I loved it anyway.

I should probably wake Edward up and send him to the guest room but I'm unbelievably comfortable, so I won't.

...

I wake up again on my back, warm all over, his body sprawled half over mine, his hips rolling languidly to rub his erection against my thigh.

Again with the sleep humping.

Feeling every inch the martyr I wiggle away from him and head for the bathroom to brush my teeth. It's too early to get up and get dressed but it's too late for me to go back to sleep so instead I pad into the kitchen and open the blinds so I can see to make myself some coffee.

While the machine does its magic I wander into the living room where Edward is still fast asleep but has his hand down his sweats, holding himself. I stifle my laugh, if it were anybody else it would be gross but somehow Edward even manages to make his horniness charming. And when he staggers into the kitchen a few minutes later, drawn by the smell of fresh coffee, his sleepiness is adorable.

"What time do you call this?" He grumbles, collapsing on a stool opposite me.

"Six am."

"You get up at six am every day?" He says with a yawn.

"Pretty much, I like to work out."

He blinks at me and then laughs.

"What?" I huff.

"Nothing." He chuckles, trying to tame his hair with his hands. "Don't get all bristly on me, it's just that if I remember correctly you once told me you were allergic to exercise."

"I am." I laugh, passing him a mug of coffee.

"Thanks." He murmurs, burying his face in it.

"De nada. Almost all forms of exercise result in a rash of bruises you will also recall. However, I have mastered the art of the treadmill and am becoming proficient on the rowing machine."

"Well I'm not going on a treadmill, too girly, but I'll run with you if you want, my stuff's here."

I hesitate for a moment, there's an obvious reason why I don't run, even though paps don't tend to be the fittest people on the planet, or the earliest risers.

"Come on Bella, its six am on a Saturday and I'll be with you, this a free country, you ought to be able to run if you want to."

"Alright, fine, but if your sweaty butt makes the news don't blame me."

...

We ran a couple of miles and I must admit it was way better than the treadmill, especially because you can stop for coffee and a danish at the halfway point. Bliss.

"I need to go and see Charlie." I confess as we're heading off to our respective showers. "Will you be alright here for an hour or so?"

"I'll come with you if you want, I haven't seen him for years."

"He might not recognise you."

"No matter." He says with his easy smile. "I'll come if you don't mind?"

"No, of course not, I'll be ready in about twenty minutes."

"And I will be patiently waiting."

"Rude." I mutter as I walk away, smiling.

...

"How is he today?"

"He's good." Monica says, giving Edward the not so covert once over, she's only human. "Enjoy."

Edward returns my wide smile with one of his own, good days are the absolute best days and my already high spirits soar.

"Bella!" He says as soon as I turn into his room.

"Hi Dad." I say, hugging him tight.

"And Edward! How are you boy, long time no see, I didn't realise you two were still dating. She never mentions you anymore."

"I'm always around somewhere Charlie." Edward responds easily as they shake hands warmly. "You should know that by now."

"Good, good, I always liked you way more than that fella she dated in High School, what was his name Bella?"

"Josh."

"That's right, his eyes were too close together as I recall. So how are classes?"

And there you have it, on a good day Charlie remembers a wide array of things, but never very much from the last decade.

We spend longer there than I'd intended since Charlie's in fine form and I don't mind one bit that he and Edward are largely ignoring me as they prattle on about manly stuff like fishing and football. And I'm grateful for Edward's almost photographic memory, sometimes we slip up and it really upsets Charlie when he realises something's not quite right with his memory, but Edward seems to pick up easily which season and players Charlie's referring to.

...

"Feeling good?" Edward asks as we drive back into the city.

"Yeah." I admit, still smiling. "It doesn't happen very often, but when it does . . . . even though he's out of date with everything it's still good to have my Dad back, even for a few hours."

"We could have stayed if you'd wanted to."

"No, it's okay Edward, I've learned the hard way not to push my luck, it can all go again in the blink of an eye and that's _really_ hard to take."

He reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, he knows the story.

I was out at a painfully fashionable restaurant, on a date, the night I found out Charlie had been shot and that they weren't expecting him to live. I remember it vividly, an unwelcome Kodak moment in my life. The popping flash bulbs, shouted questions, my date trying to hold me up while we waited for Demetri to arrive, the company jet to flying me to Seattle where Charlie had been transferred due to the nature of his injury.

Shot in the head.

I was ecstatic when he pulled through but then the reality of it hit me. ABIs affect people in different ways. In some ways Charlie was lucky, he regained most of his mobility, but he only regained the most tenuous of grips on who he was. Sometimes it's like Renee and I never existed and he thinks I'm Grandma Swan, and sometimes he knows something is wrong and he's aggressive and unpleasant, so unlike himself it's painful to watch.

Six months after his injury we were able to move him to a specialist care facility near the city and Monica has been his constant companion ever since. I felt bad at first, and selfish, taking him away from his home and friends. But it was the best thing for Charlie in the long run, he's made more progress here than he would have anywhere else, and mostly he's happy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons.**

**Chapter 11 Quicksand**

**BPOV**

We dump the Panamera back at my place and I tuck some of my trademark hair into a beanie and don my sunglasses, which makes Edward laugh and do the same. And then we sally forth to spend the day doing the corniest tourist things we can think of.

We decide on steak for dinner, not bothering to go home and change first and since no one seems to have recognised me all day I gradually start to relax properly, though this is a good restaurant it isn't one that celebs tend to hang out in so there isn't a single pap lurking in the street. More bliss.

...

"I'm stuffed." I groan regretfully, leaning back from the table to watch him finish his dinner through heavy eyes.

He smirks at me while he does. Edward Cullen manages to make eating sexy, and he knows it. The wine, food and happy vibes combine comfortably inside me and I smile back at him lazily, letting my thoughts drift unchecked.

I really shouldn't be thinking about how attractive he is, or remembering what he's like to kiss, all over, or the noises he makes when he's turned on. Or how mouth watering he is naked. It's dangerous territory, especially when he's been flirting with me all day, taking any excuse to touch me or whisper in my ear. I'm guessing he wouldn't be averse to slipping briefly back into another one of our old habits and my poor sex starved body certainly wouldn't be, the Bachelor Auction was a long time ago. But my mind says no. Look but don't touch. Remember but don't relive.

Damn it to hell.

Without thinking I sigh and he asks me what's wrong.

"Nothing." I respond as he refills my glass. "Just waiting for you to finish so we can order dessert."

"Always impatient for the good stuff." He says in a low voice, letting his lips curl into their crooked smile.

I ram my thighs together under the table and take a slug of my wine as he studies me through lowered lashes.

This is going to be a long night . . . .

...

Still no paps when we exit the restaurant some time later so we walk back to my apartment in companionable silence, his arm slung casually across my shoulders, finger toying with my hair.

Unfortunately I'm not the only famous face that lives there, and it is the weekend, so there's one guy hanging about outside with his camera, though he's thankfully one of the less obnoxious ones and merely snaps off a couple of shots as we approach and as Edward holds open the door and ushers me inside.

"That'll please Mom." He observes directly into my ear as we wait for the elevator. "A nice safe picture of her favourite son and a beautiful woman she can show to her country club friends."

The elevator doors close behind us, and I should finally be able to relax completely but my body won't let me, and there's a different kind of silence as we travel smoothly upward. The confined space is accentuating the electricity that's been in the air between us all day and it's finally arcing as we move toward an empty apartment and privacy . . . . his hand falls from my shoulder to my waist, squeezing, as I fumble with my key . . . . and when I finally turn the lock it's his body pushing into mine that supplies the force to open the door and propel us inside . . . .

In an instant he's turned us and pushed me up against the door with a reverberating thud and there isn't time to think before his mouth slants down over mine, hard and demanding . . . . and I'm kissing him back . . . . our hands in each other's hair . . . . ripping at each other's clothing ineffectually as our bodies press themselves together . . . . his tongue in my mouth, exploring it thoroughly, owning it . . . . his hand on my hip, gripping it painfully . . . . his teeth on my neck . . . . gasping . . . . panting . . . . aching . . . . aching with want . . . .

He eases me away from the door, barely breaking the kiss as he tugs my shirt up and off my body and I repay the favour despite my brain screaming at me to stop. We thud back into the door still devouring each other and my skin sings with the contact to his, the scrub of the fine hairs on his chest against mine.

My hands branch out over his back, fingertips revelling in the play of skin over muscle as his rove up and down, squeezing and feeling any part of my body he can reach.

And then his teeth are on my neck again, so we can breathe, and I moan with pleasure. And pain, because oxygen restores sanity.

"Edward, no, stop, please . . . ."

He does, instantly, pulling back to study my face as best he can in the dim light.

"I can't . . . ." I wheeze, still fighting for breath, my chest rising and falling in synchronisation with his.

"You want to." He murmurs against my lips, his long fingers rolling the evidence between them through the lace of my bra.

"But I shouldn't."

He hand falls away, joining the other on my hips as he presses our foreheads together.

We stand like that for what feels like forever, recovering our breathing and our equilibrium.

"I'm sorry." We both say together.

And then we laugh and the spell appears broken.

He releases me, turning to scoop our shirts off the floor, handing me mine while he dons his own, tickling me lightly while I'm lost somewhere in the process of putting mine on.

We head into the kitchen to get water and then part ways to our respective bedrooms with awkward good nights.

I don't bother with a shower, instead I strip naked and throw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Then I roll over, punching the pillow a few times and before smashing my face into it with a muffled scream.

Stupid vagina blocking brain.

But I can't relax and the arcing electricity isn't gone, I can still feel it tugging at me from across the apartment.

My nipples are hard and I'm aching and warm between my legs.

I want him.

Badly.

With a groan I roll onto my back again, one hand making its way to caress my poor neglected nipple, the other moving slowly down my body, the way I wish his was . . . .

A rap at my door freezes me in place.

"Bella?" He calls softly. "Are you awake?"

Don't speak. Don't speak.

"Yeah."

"Can I come in?"

I roll myself in the sheet.

"Yeah."

The door opens and he makes his way to the bed in the dim light, looking down at me.

"Jesus." He says roughly, his hand reaching up to tug at his hair. "I came in here to talk to you, apologise, I . . . . I don't know now . . . ."

He swallows, his eyes travelling over me, and I watch his moonlit adam's apple bob, jogging the thin silver chain round his throat.

"_Jesus_." He groans, lapsing into silence.

My eyes fall to his chest, he isn't wearing a t-shirt, and then on down to where he's growing in his sweatpants. And it's my turn to swallow and groan _Jesus_.

The romantic in me swears it can actually see the electricity arcing now, faint lines of blue, and my thighs rub together of their own accord, making him swallow again, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Our eyes lock and very slowly, without conscious decision, my arms reach out to him.

He's in them within a heartbeat, lips pressing firmly but gently against mine as our arms wind around each other. There's all the passion but none of the urgency from before, as if we both know that I'm not going to stop it this time.

We kiss, thoroughly exploring each other's mouths as our bodies roll lightly against each other.

And then he pulls back, gazing down at me for so long I bite my lip, old insecurities threatening to surface. But he reaches up, gently rescuing it before sitting back on his haunches and slowly peeling the sheet away from my body.

"Beautiful." He murmurs as his hands begin to ghost over my skin.

I lay still, swallowing my moans as his warm palms caress my shoulders, arms, breasts, stomach, thighs and calves. Spreading goosebumps and fire wherever they travel.

When I'm burning all over and swallowing back whimpers he stands, easing himself out of his sweats and an actual honest to goodness moan escapes me as he climbs back onto the bed and presses all of him onto all of me.

I can feel him against my thigh, moisture painting it. I can feel hot breath on my face. Hands taking mine and moving them above my head. Nose skimming my throat, my breast, first one, then the other. His lips, tongue and teeth on my nipples. His hands as they press mine into the pillow in silent command, as they glide down my arms and move to caress my breasts. His tongue as it travels down my body, dallying at my belly button before stroking my hip bones.

His nose skims my pubic bone and my legs fall open like the petals of a flower but it isn't what I want, what I need.

My hands leave their place on the pillow as his tongue reaches out to stroke me, just the tip of it sending shivers through my limbs.

"No." I whisper, tugging gently on his hair. "I want you. I need _you_ . . . ."

"God Bella." He groans as he surges up my body and presses his lips to mine again, resting on his elbows. "You have no idea how much I need you too . . . ."

My legs wrap around his hips and he deepens the kiss, pulling liquid fire all the way up from the tips of my toes and a tortured gasp into his mouth. I can feel him between my legs, sliding, writhing and pressing. Driving me wild. My legs tighten round him but still he teases me, pressing in until I begin to give around him and then withdrawing to rub himself against my clit.

My hips are bucking against him now, my body frantic for him, the ache now almost painful.

"Edward." I moan when he transfers his lips to my neck. "Please, oh _please_ . . . ."

He draws away from me, looking down to watch my face, and then drives into me in one strong thrust.

"Oh god yes!" I exhale, back bending, neck arching.

His teeth scrape the column of my throat as he withdraws and my fingers dig into his shoulders like talons.

And then he trusts back in and my back arches more, allowing his arms to slide under my shoulders, his fingers to curl over them.

"Bella." He groans into my skin as he withdraws again, hovering just inside me so that my muscles clutch at him urgently. "Can't be slow . . . . it's too much . . . . you're . . . . too much . . . . _need_ . . . ."

"Edward . . . ." My words dry up temporarily as he fills me again, hard and fast, his muscles trembling with restraint as he holds himself there, his breathing harsh on my neck.

My hands move from his back, clasping his face and bringing his lips to mine.

"Fuck me." I demand against them.

And everything snaps, as I knew it would.

His hands tighten on my shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle but the pain is just one of many sensations my brain can no longer separate. Warmth, heat, wet, skin sliding against skin. Panting, groaning, unintelligible words. Sensation, pleasure, rhythmic movements, synchronicity. Creaking wood, questing mouths, grasping hands. Tightening muscles, building tension . . . .

Like well choreographed dancers Edward and I break away from each other, overwhelmed at the same time. My head falls back onto the pillow, my thigh muscles protesting as they struggle to hold onto his body, my hands gripping the taut muscles of his arms as he rears up on them, going impossibly harder, deeper, preparing to shatter me into a million pieces . . . . I try to focus on his face . . . . the hair falling over his furrowed brow . . . . the flare of his nostrils . . . . the way his mouth is open slightly, spewing formless sounds and harsh breaths . . . . the chain that glistens against the sweat on his neck . . . . the tendons standing out as he throws his head back . . . .

He's close . . . . we're so close . . . . my eyes squeeze shut, my head tilting back . . . . and I give myself completely over to the feel of him moving inside me . . . . so close . . . . . our rhythm falters . . . . and I tighten to the point of no return . . . . I need his mouth on mine . . . . and suddenly it's there . . . . I'm there . . . . he's there . . . . releasing a strangled cry into my mouth as he thrusts against my now rigid muscles . . . . pulsing inside me . . . . groaning as my clenching orgasm milks him . . . . collapsing on me . . . . spent but still moving slowly inside me . . . . guiding us both down . . . .

"_Fuck_." He moans breathlessly against my cheek, and I can feel the smile on his lips.

Mine curve into their own smile as he peppers light kisses over my face, distracting me from the feeling of loss as he slips out of my body.

We're in no hurry to separate, languidly stroking each other's skin and exchanging sweet kisses but eventually the reality of life after gratification intrudes.

"Edward." I whisper, tapping his butt. "We have to move, the wet patch . . . ."

Laughing quietly we shuffle across to the other side of the bed and he wraps himself around me and pulls the covers over us as I close my eyes.

Body limp and satiated.

Brain, uneasy.

My relationship with Edward was always complicated, on my side.

I _was_ naive when I started college. I'd had a boyfriend in High School and we'd slept together, once or twice, but he was a sweet boy and in no way prepared me for meeting and becoming friends with someone like Edward Cullen.

Despite Rose's warnings I did fall in love with him, it would have been difficult not to, but I was very good at keeping it hidden. Very. I knew he'd never love me, I was amazed that he considered me a friend, and even more amazed that he seemed to find me attractive, but no way was a boy like Edward going to fall in love with the little waif from Phoenix. I was stupid to let it go as far as it did with him, but I was never _that_ stupid. And I can honestly say that my feelings about him never really made me miserable, I used to avoid him when he was with a girl but I can't say I ever felt particularly jealous, I accepted him, us, for who and what we were.

Maybe it wasn't love, I don't know, but those mixed feelings make me cautious about slipping back into _all_ our old roles. I'm not a girl with her life stretched out in front of her any more, able to leap into making mistakes then take the time to learn from them. I'm a woman and instinct tells me we don't heal so well when we take a tumble.

I sigh unhappily but snuggle back into his warmth anyway.

Because he's quicksand.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 12 Suction **

**BPOV**

When I first started attending myriad business dinners with The Old Man, I was, as Edward put it, allergic to exercise. And though I was much less interested in my appearance even I couldn't ignore the fact that I was starting to get a bit doughy round the middle. So I joined a diet class. It was a bit of a scam to cash in on people with low self esteem to be honest because it's not rocket science, eat a broad range of foods in moderation and get plenty of exercise, though I guess that doesn't sell weight loss programs. What they give you, that you don't get on your own, is motivation and support, and the occasional nugget of wisdom. The less than svelte lady that ran my class used to say that when you fall off the wagon the important thing to do is accept it and climb straight back on again. Not think, fuck it, I wonder if I've got time to deep fry a Snickers?

Edward's not a chocolate bar, but you get the idea.

So when I woke up in the morning my brain ordered me straight out of bed.

And it would have worked like a charm if he hadn't been waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom, all mussed up hair, crinkly eyes and sheet riding dangerously low on his hips.

After orgasm three, in the shower, against the wall, he has very strong thighs, I decided to write Sunday off and start the diet again on Monday.

...

If there was anything in the press about my weekend with Edward it wasn't bad enough that someone felt compelled to make me look at it, so I'll treat that as a good thing.

The weekend, which was from start to finish, the best I've had in a long time has been playing on mind, and body, all week, not least because its Carlisle's birthday on Saturday and we're all gathering at Casa Cullen to celebrate.

It hasn't helped that this is going to be a slow week at work. It's the monthly Board Meeting on Wednesday which means that everyone spends Monday and Tuesday getting ready for it and Thursday and Friday getting over it. Lauren in particular is on her last nerve since it falls to her to arrange everyone's flights and accommodation, the itinerary, the content and all the catering. She's good at it, if it were up to me they'd have to arrange their own travel and fetch their own lunch. However they're an expensive bunch to have in a room together so I suppose it's better to get the maximum value out of them.

God it's only Tuesday and not even lunchtime, there are a thousand productive things I could be doing instead of staring out the window waiting for Rose to text me back.

Finally.

'All sorted, I've shipped Em off to help Esme get ready so Friday night is on, I'll pick you up from the airport, which flight are you on?'

'Excited! Five thirty.'

'Mexican?'

'Hell yes'

'Tequila?'

'You read my mind'

There's a long pause.

'You boinked Edward didn't you?'

'Yeah'

'Was it good?'

'Yeah'

'I'll see you Friday xx'

'xx'

...

"Spill." She orders as we tuck into our fajitas at her kitchen counter.

"There's nothing to spill." I shrug. "You know the drill, we had a great weekend, he flirted with me all Saturday and I gave in to temptation on Saturday night."

"And Sunday?"

My cheeks heat.

"That good huh?"

"I just can't resist him." I sigh, taking a slug of my tequila.

"Do you need to?"

"I'm too old to be a fuck buddy Rose." My cheeks heat again but she kindly ignores it.

"You're thirty, healthy and hot, why not?"

Another shrug.

"Look." She begins. "Don't wig out on me, just listen okay?"

I raise an eyebrow which she counters with her own.

"Okay." I concede.

"You don't seem all that inclined to settle down, I mean, Jake asked you to marry him loads of times, right?"

"Right."

"And if you're not going to settle down what's the harm in taking advantage of Suaveward when you get the chance? I mean, it's not like you're a constipated virgin, you enjoy yourself with all sorts of drool worthy men when the fancy takes you."

"They're not my friends though are they?"

Her eyes light up and I can feel the 'wig out' coming on.

"I'm a simple soul Bella Swan." She says, swigging her own drink. "If he's your friend, and he considers himself yours, and you can't keep your hands off each other isn't there a rather obvious solution?"

"_Rose_." I groan, knowing where she's going with this and that it's a _complete_ waste of time.

"Nuh-huh. Just hear me out and then I'll drop it.

I don't care what you say now or what you said back in the day. If you think that you and he are now, or were ever, just _friends_ then you're deluding yourself. I get why Edward can do it, he has a pea size man brain, but you've got no excuse.

If boinking him makes you uncomfortable then don't do it. Or better yet tell him he's not getting all up in your vjayjay again until he can man up and admit that you're more than just a fuck buddy."

We glare at each for a moment and then burst out laughing.

"I'll take that under advisement Ms Cullen." I snicker.

"You do that Ms Swan." She giggles, toasting me.

...

Em arrives home later that night to find us sprawled out in the den, completely wasted.

"Two drunk ladies, it's my lucky night!"

Rose flips him the finger, which makes us both howl with laughter, not that we've needed a reason for the last hour or so.

Em shakes his head at us and sighs.

"Okay, which one of you is going first?"

"Me! Me!" I shout and he scoops me up easily, carrying me out bridal style.

"I'm drunk." I inform him as he lugs me upstairs.

"Color me surprised." He chuckles.

"I am not a sentimental drunk." I continue as he turns right into the bedroom. "So I'm not going to tell you that I love you."

"Good cos I get enough of that shit from Rose."

"_She _loves you." I remind him, poking him in the chest.

"That she does." He says, plonking me down on the bed. "Night Cyggers."

"Night Em."

I pull the comforter over me and roll to face the door.

About two minutes later he passes by with Rose in his arms and she blows me a kiss as they disappear to their room.

I bet if he had a dollar for every time he's put us to bed over the years he'd be like a _billionaire_ now or something . . . .

...

"Why are we getting dressed up again?" Em complains as Rose fixes his tie.

"Because your Mom said so, that's why. There, now you're presentable. Have you put your stuff in the overnight bag?"

"Shit, no!" He says, rushing out and thundering upstairs.

"Sometimes." Rose groans. "I wonder how I'll cope with _two_ kids in the house."

"You're ready then?" I ask her, already smiling at the thought.

"Yep. Not getting another shot when its due and we're going to let nature take its course."

I want to squeal and give her a hug but that's probably a bit premature so I settle for grinning like an idiot instead.

"Which means." She says, grinning back. "That I have to indulge all my really bad habits to the hilt for a couple of months."

"Want some help with that?"

"Always. I was thinking we could take a girl's vacation to Isle Esme for my birthday, you up for that?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

...

The party is already in full swing when we arrive, the beautifully decorated house crammed with Ma and Pa Cullen's friends and colleagues from the hospital where Carlisle works.

Esme greets us all with hugs and kisses and then sends us deeper into the house to search out the birthday boy.

We find him in the kitchen surrounded by an adoring crowd of mostly women. Like father like son.

"Birthday kiss!" Carlisle demands, pulling Rose in and landing a borderline appropriate smacker straight on her lips.

"Jesus Dad." Em groans, yanking his wife back out of harm's way.

There's no one to protect me though and I'm pretty sure he felt up my butt, however briefly.

"You're a very bad man." I tell him when he releases me but he just winks and turns to the matronly woman who's trying to get his attention back.

...

I'm talking to a couple of naturists and trying very hard to politely dodge their invitation to join their group sometime when a pair of familiar arms slip round my waist.

"Mind if I steal her away?" He asks, already dragging me backward through the crowd.

"Rude." I huff when he lets me go.

"Hey." He smirks. "If you wanna get naked with the Richelys go right on back."

"No thanks. I'm good."

"I thought you would be."

We fall silent, acutely aware of how close we're standing and the fact that his fingers are curled lightly around my wrist.

He swallows.

I swallow.

And then he drags me into the cloakroom, pushing the door shut behind us.

"Hi." He says, unsmiling, eyes dark.

"Um, hi."

"I'm going to kiss you."

"You are?" I ask raising my eyebrow. "And in such a romantic setting too, lucky me."

"Sarcasm." He murmurs as he leans down, licking his lips and threading his hands in my hair. "Really." They brush mine. "Really." Then press more firmly. "Doesn't suit you."

My mouth pops open, and I may or may not have moaned, but before he can deepen the kiss the door sweeps open admitting Carlisle.

My mouth snaps shut and I try to pull away but Edward's hands won't let me.

"You're slipping son." Carlisle chuckles, backing up. "You forgot to lock it."

And he withdraws, closing the door behind him.

I open my mouth again, to speak this time, but Edward's doesn't give me the chance.

And before I know it I'm kissing him back _and_ fisting my hands on the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer.

God he's such a good kisser, it's like having sex with your clothes on . . . .

"That's better." He sighs an indeterminate amount of time later, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head. "I can think straight now."

And then he releases me and opens the door, grabbing my hand and dragging me out with him.

"Come on, let's go get some champagne before the old fogies drink it all."

At least one of us can think straight, I don't think I can think at all, which doesn't make sense, I think . . . .

...

The party roars on, old people, who should know better, are doing shots in the kitchen. Carlisle and his cronies are playing pool. Rose is feeding Em nibbles from the buffet while he rests his head in her lap and Alice and Jasper have cleared the floor in the family room and are trying to get the dancing started.

I back up but Alice's sixth sense hasn't deserted her and she sends Jasper to catch me before I can make good my escape.

And before I know it a very drunk eye surgeon is twirling me around the floor telling me things about eyeballs I would rather _not_ know . . . .

...

Its three am by the time the last guest has left the house. The last guests standing I should say, there are two random Doctors passed out in the family room and a post coital couple passed out on my bed. At least I'm assuming the post coital part, since they're both naked from the waist down, which is going to lead to an interesting conversation over breakfast.

Rose and I are pottering about helping Esme collect all the glasses and plates while the boys are putting furniture back where it belongs and bagging the trash.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Rose asks as Esme starts the dishwasher and puts the kettle on.

"She can sleep in Edward's room." Esme says absently.

"And where is he going to sleep?" I ask in surprise.

"With you I expect." She says with a negligent shrug yet knowing smile. "Tea?"

...

I yawn for the umpteenth time, nearly dislocating my jaw, which Edward seems to find extremely amusing.

I feel weird around him tonight but nevertheless the suck of the quicksand is as strong as it ever was.

"I'm going to bed." I announce, getting up and going over to give Carlisle a hug. "Happy Birthday big guy."

"Thanks for coming." He says, hugging me back and I turn to kiss Esme's cheek.

"Goodnight dear." She murmurs. "Sleep well."

"Night!" I call to everyone in general, sighing in relief as I turn the corner and start up the stairs.

Someone's rescued my bag from coitus couple so I brush my teeth and change into my pyjamas before curling up on the far side of Edward's bed.

I've never slept in Edward's bed here before. Ever.

And I'm just on the cusp of falling asleep in its surprising comfort when I hear him come in. He moves around for a while, probably getting changed and then the bed dips as he slides in beside me.

"You still awake?" He whispers.

"Mmm."

He snuggles up to me, warm and solid, draping an arm over my waist.

"Night Bella." He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder.

"Night Edward."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 13 Threads**

**BPOV**

I'm not running away, I always intended to leave early this morning since I'm flying to London tomorrow, but I am definitely sneaking out of his bed with the intention of not waking him up.

Showered and changed I head downstairs, finding the kitchen empty but with coffee already brewed.

I grab a cup since I've got about ten minutes before the cab picks me up, someone's always happy to drive me to the airport but eight am after a party night is asking a bit much.

There is nothing particularly different about my departure this time than any other but as I close the front door behind me I feel weird.

...

I don't have an office in London, I hot desk like everyone else, today I'm sat opposite a rather nervous young lady in Finance. And I'm setting a very bad example by ignoring my cell which is vibrating on the desk beside me.

Because it's Jake.

And I don't want to talk to him.

...

I love London and not just because nobody knows who I am. I love how diverse it is, and call me a typical tourist, but the red buses, post boxes and telephone boxes never cease to make me smile and imagine I've wandered onto a movie set. And I love my hotel, I always stay at Claridges when I'm here, in one of the penthouse suites if they're free. Wanton extravagance but I can't take the money with me when I die so what the hell.

Of course Jake knows I always stay here too and there is a message from him at Reception when I get in that night.

'B, a little birdie tells me you are in town, free for dinner?'

I tuck the note into my purse to think about later, right now I need my bed, I'm a martyr to jet lag.

...

I roll over and check the time on my cell.

Three am.

That's going to hurt later but there's no way I'm going back to sleep so I might as well get up and do some work.

This is the other thing I love about Claridges, twenty four hour room service . . . .

After a shower, cup of coffee and bacon sandwich, I settle back on the bed with my laptop intending to start on my emails but something immediately catches my eye.

Edward A Cullen.

_Subject: Greetings _

_Hi Bella_

_Didn't realise you were off jet setting otherwise I would have said goodbye._

_Hope you are having a good trip?_

_See you when you get back_

_Edward_

_x_

_Subject: Greetings from London _

_Hi Edward_

_It's not exactly jet setting, its work, but I am staying at Claridges!_

_Going to Frankfurt tomorrow, back home on Saturday_

_B_

_x_

The next one that catches my attention is from Jake.

_Subject: Boo!_

_B_

_Hope you're not avoiding me?_

_Would love to see you if you aren't..._

_JB_

_x_

_Subject: Re: Boo!_

_Hi Jake_

_Of course I'm not avoiding you, just got a really packed week, how's the new job going?_

_B_

I scan down my emails, nope, nothing else that isn't work related. Hardly surprising I suppose . . . .

...

It's been a long trip and I'm looking forward to getting home.

Demetri picks me up from the airport ushering me into the back of the long black car and away from the prying eyes of the press. Not that there's much for them to photograph this time other than one exhausted woman. Good man that he is he even carries my bags up for me, depositing them in the bedroom and consenting to stay for a coffee.

We don't talk much, possibly because all we really have in common is The Old Man and a car, but it's not uncomfortable, far from it.

When he's gone I crack open a beer and fire up the laptop in my study, I need my bed but it's too early if I don't want to have jetlag _all _week.

I don't know what's wrong with me tonight, I certainly can't focus and I bang the lid down on my laptop with unnecessary force.

The Europe trip was good, Klaus and I have identified a potential acquisition in France that will make an excellent addition to our portfolio and I have a ton of stuff to read up on it, but I just can't get into it.

'You about?' I text Rose as I flop on my saggy couch.

'Dinner with Em's boss. Talk tomorrow?'

'K. Have fun x' She hates Em's boss.

'Haha. Very funny x'

I contemplate ringing Char but it's late and I'm wary of waking the twins, the last time I saw the poor woman she was starting to look like a zombie, even Pete had hollow eyes and they absolutely _refused_ to come to Carlisle's birthday bash.

Okay. I can amuse myself.

I wander into the living room and flick on the TV, scrolling through the channels as I sip my beer.

Alright. Maybe I can't. Not tonight.

I get up and mooch round the apartment for a bit, straightening things and roughing up the accent walls.

And then I take a fresh beer in the tub with me.

By the time I've turned pruney it's just after ten and I reckon I can legitimately go to bed.

There were many magical powers ascribed to this bed when Jake and I picked it out and it is comfortable, extremely so. But I feel like it's trying to reject me tonight as I toss and turn on the surface of it trying to get snuggly. Which is ridiculous, I'm so tired I could probably sleep on the floor . . . .

My cell chimes and I snatch it up, eager for a distraction.

'You home?'

'I am'

'How was Frankfurt?'

'Good. I got you one of those huge beer steins you love.'

'I knew there was a reason why I liked you x'

'That's it? I'm offended'

'Well there are other reasons why I like you x'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah'

'Okay, don't shower me with compliments, see if I care'

'You're beautiful. You're smart. You're sexy. And you can guess what I want to do to you . . . '

'Not taking that bait'

'Boring'

'Haven't you got a pregnant mare to molest or something?'

'I'd rather molest you'

'Have you been drinking?'

'No, just been thinking about you'

'You need to get out more'

'I am out'

'Out of the closet?'

'Haha, no. At a party'

'Surely there are some willing ladies there you can molest?'

'Indeed there are, one of them has her hand on my thigh right now'

'Then why are you wasting time texting me?'

'Because I'd rather it was yours'

I gape at that one for an age since I've no idea how to respond, 'I'd rather it was mine too' is not the sort of thing I would _ever_ say to him.

A new text appears underneath it.

'I've removed it. It was getting dangerously close to the promised land'

And we're back in familiar territory.

'Your ego truly knows no bounds'

'It has a well rounded life of its own'

'Are we still talking about your ego?'

'We can talk about my dick if you want B'

'I am rolling my eyes at you'

'I love it when you do that'

'I have jetlag, night Edward x'

'Night Bella xx'

...

Sunday. Time to go see Mom.

She starts as soon as I walk in.

"Oh, you are still alive then."

Her soft breathy voice belies her words.

"Sorry Mom." I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I've been busy."

She scowls at me and I suppress my sigh. My flighty, happy go lucky Mom, is long gone. I can understand why, if anyone was going to struggle to come to terms with being quadriplegic, it was her. And though she can't blame me, she does resent me, _envy_ me.

"I see you're fucking that Cullen boy again."

"Mom, I'm not . . . ."

"Whatever Bella, I thought you'd have learned more self respect by now."

"How have you been?"

"What a stupid question." She snaps.

And this time I do sigh.

"Sorry Mom. Dad's well."

"And I give a crap about this why exactly?"

"Esme sends her love."

She snorts and we lapse into silence.

I've set a mental limit that expires after an hour, I'm a shitty daughter but that is all I can cope with.

...

I really should work this afternoon but instead I grab a beer and wander the apartment like a caged animal.

I need to stop procrastinating and move, it's so sterile here I'm like a ghost haunting my own home and I feel like I'll go mad if I have to stay here another night, which is unfortunate given the inevitability of it.

Mad, mad, mad . . . .

My cell chimes somewhere and I tear through the apartment looking for it.

'I'm after a favour x'

'Do you get many favours granted as a result of random texts?'

My cell rings.

"You'd be surprised." He purrs.

"No I wouldn't." I laugh.

He chuckles on the other end of the line.

"Hi."

"Hi. So, what's the favour?"

"There's a big dinner the week after next, will you come with me?"

"In Kentucky?"

"Yep, Saturday."

"Hang on, let me check . . . ." I scroll quickly through my diary. "I can come, if you really want me to?"

"I'd wouldn't be asking if I didn't, would I?"

There's an obvious answer to that but I sense that bringing Tanya up now would be a bit of a mistake.

"I suppose. Have you run out of women who'll give you the time of day locally?"

"Hardly." He drawls and I can hear the smirk in his voice. "But I want to take _you_."

I'm dying to ask why but my brain orders my mouth shut and grinning stupidly instead.

"Hello?" He laughs. "You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"So you'll _come_?"

"Must you make everything sound dirty?"

"That's not me Bella, that's you."

"If you choose to believe that."

"You know I do."

There's a long pause.

"I wasn't disturbing anything was I?"

"No, Sunday night is the long dark tea time of the soul and all that."

"Even for bone fide important people like you?"

"I'm not important Edward."

"Sure you are, I think an _important_ magazine even said so recently."

"Should I be worried that you're reading about me?"

"Nope, you're an interesting subject but I like the articles with lots of pictures best, you're very easy on the eye."

A giggle escapes, surprising the shit out of me.

"Did you just giggle?" He asks, sounding amused.

"No."

"Liar."

"You're insulting me now?"

"Sometimes." He groans. "You are impossible to talk to, I . . . ."

He stops as a voice cuts in from the background.

"Be right there. Sorry Bella, gotta go, Alistair needs me in surgery."

"Okay, night Edward."

"Night Bella."

...

"He asked you on a date?"

"He asked me to go to a function with him, it's not a date."

"Jesus Bella." Rose huffs. "Whatever. But you're going?"

"Sure, why not?"

"No reason at all. Are you going to give his bed a thorough work out while you're there?"

"No."

"Pfft."

"Your faith in me is heart warming Rose."

"You're the one who said she can't resist him. And he'll be wearing a tux."

"I've seen him a tux loads of times."

"The Cullen men do look good in their tuxedos." She sighs.

"That they do." I sigh in agreement.

There's a pause.

"So, you're coming for Thanksgiving, right?"

"I promised I would."

"Awesome, I'm shitting a brick."

"You'll be fine."

"I won't poison anybody but I'll never pull off a Thanksgiving dinner the way Esme does."

"You just have to put your own stamp on it."

"At least it's only the six of us, its Ali's year to go to Jasper's parents. Are Char and Pete going too?"

"Yeah, apparently Ma Whitlock put her foot down and insisted."

"She's a scary woman when she wants to be. I'd better go my boss has just looked at his watch for the third time."

"He still giving you a hard time?"

"He wishes." She laughs. "Catch you later."

"Bye."

I go back to the report I was trying to read but the intercom buzzes, I need to get rid of that fucking thing, it's like some relic from the eighties . . . .

"Bella, your ten am is here."

"Thanks Lauren, send him in."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 14 Seminal Occasion**

**BPOV**

I wave my financial advisor out the door and transfer my attention back to the stack of papers he's left me.

I spend a fortune on clothes, my hair, my nails and myriad beauty products and regimens. My apartment cost more than some small companies, I donate as much charity each year and my car was six figures, but I'm still worth an embarrassingly large amount of money. Callum, my advisor, is getting increasingly frustrated with me for not investing it properly. I do invest _some_ but frankly its too much like what I do all day anyway and I just can't be _bothered_. I own a couple of buildings in New York and even one in London, what the hell else do I need? And even if shares in Cask went down to a cent each I'd still be worth a cool million, just what kind of fiscal disaster is he trying to prepare me for? I'm pretty sure if the world ever gets that bad I'd be better off buying a Kalashnikov than a vineyard in Tuscany. Although at least I could be very drunk, very often.

With a sigh I shove it all in my top drawer and close it, I like to keep something back to worry about later.

The intercom buzzes.

"Bella, I have Matt Alsten on line one."

"Hi Matt, what can I do for you?"

"Bella, thank god, you wouldn't believe what's happened now!"

Oh here we go, I like Matt and he's very good at his job, but sometimes I feel like I ought to swaddle him in blankets and give him a pacifier . . . .

...

Done with that drama I get back to work only to be disturbed an hour later when my office doors burst open and a clothes rack sweeps in. Ladies and Gentleman, Aro is in the building.

"Jesus Aro." I grumble. "Its only one measly dinner."

"My Belle Bella, you poor uneducated child, thank god I am here to help you." He declares, emerging from behind the rack. "The ball you are attending is the seminal occasion in the racing and Kentucky social calendar. It is not just dinner and it is not just dancing. There will be billionaires, millionaires, playboys, socialites, owners, trainers and jockeys in attendance, the cream of whom you already know. And of course one _very_ photogenic veterinarian. It is vitally important that you do not let me down in such illustrious company.

Now, to business, the world's finest are of course clamouring to dress you for the occasion and I have very graciously made some pre-selections on your behalf. Colors and styles that make you look good and photograph well."

The clothes rack of doom is wheeled into my 'closet' and with a sigh of defeat I follow it.

"Before we begin, do you know what color _he_ likes on you?"

"Aro, I don't know what the fuck Rose has told you about this 'seminal occasion' but it isn't a date."

His dark eyes bore into mine and I cave.

"He once mentioned liking blue." I confess, flushing up since it was my underwear Edward was referring to at the time and he had his face buried in it . . . .

"Light blue, dark blue . . . ."

"Light."

"Sky blue, powder blue, periwinkle, turquoise, baby blue . . . ."

"Really Aro?" I growl, attempting to regain the upper hand. "They're all light blue."

"Never mind." He drawls, taking it back. "I'm going to take an intuitive leap and go with the light blue _you_ always favour. And you'll need diamonds with it."

He unzips one of the garment bags theatrically and I have to admit that for the first time in ages I'm anxious to see what he's picked . . . .

...

"You're several percentage points below your projected sales." Felix purrs, flicking up a slide to illustrate his point.

"The market has been a lot less buoyant than anyone was expecting."

"Most of our markets have been stagnant but no one else is doing _quite_ as badly as you." Felix insists, glowering across the table at Charles who heads one of our newest ventures.

I stifle a laugh, Felix can be quite scary when he wants to be.

"Felix, Bella, you need to understand . . . ."

And he's off, blithely unaware that I've heard all those excuses before, even used a couple of them myself.

I let him run on for a while, just in case there's anything new and then I interrupt him.

"Charles, I understand all of that but the fundamental problem is you fucked up your marketing campaign. I'm a woman and I wouldn't be caught _dead_ with this product in my shopping cart if you paid me. Everything else you've done here is good work. Take this as a development point, learn to accept when you're not good at something and buy in the talent that is."

"Bella, there was no budget for . . . ."

"Budgets can be adjusted Charles, if you have a good justification, and I didn't expect a start up to get it completely right. Next time don't wait until it goes wrong, talk to me, let me help you."

...

"You went very easy on him." Felix observes as we ride down in the elevator.

"He's got talent and vision, no sense crushing him on his first run out of the blocks. Experience is a great teacher. The real test now is whether or not he listened to what I was trying to tell him. A lot of promising people fail because they can't or won't _listen_."

"I have so much to learn." Felix confesses.

"Its not rocket science F, look, listen and learn as The Old Man used to say, lunch?"

"Hotdog?"

"Yum. See how much you've learned already?"

...

Diamonds.

I have some. The Old Man gave them to me the first time I completed an acquisition on my own. They frightened the shit out of me and I put them in a bank vault. But they _were_ beautiful.

Would it be too ostentatious to wear them?

Aro, Rose and Char say no, especially as all the other women at the 'seminal occasion' will be dripping in them.

...

I haven't been in my safety deposit box for years and as soon as I open it I remember why.

I put other stuff in with the diamonds to justify the expense of storing them.

Disneyland tickets, summer of seven year old self.

Pearls. The ones Mom and Phil gave me when I graduated High School.

My corsage from Prom, dried and pressed.

A framed picture of Rose and me at Fresher's Week, grinning like the fools we were.

Charlie's badge.

My college acceptance letter.

Edward's MVP Trophy, he was starting quarterback for a couple of seasons in college. And some sheet music, he said he wrote me a song but it could be a computer program for all I know.

Grandma Swan's silver cruet set, Charlie gave it to me when I moved to New York.

The gear knob from the venerable old truck he helped me buy in High School.

The Dream Catcher Mom gave me when I was packing to leave home.

A baseball Phil signed for me just two days before they left for their ill fated vacation in New York.

I only notice the leather box containing the diamonds when a tear drops on it.

I lift it out and open the lid, picking up the hand written card from The Old Man.

_Isabella_

_You made an excellent acquisition this week and I am extremely proud of you._

_These are a token of that pride, because they are beautiful and you deserve them._

_Please proceed with your first attempt at returning them to me and explaining why they are an inappropriate gift, I am looking forward to it most eagerly._

_RRC_

I tried to give them back for a month before I eventually had to give up, he was a formidable opponent and a prodigiously stubborn when he wanted to be. I even tried taking them back to Harry Winston but they just re-delivered them the next day with an apologetic note explaining that they had been instructed to do so ad infinitum if required.

I've never worn them, thinking in the back of mind that a good enough reason to would present itself someday.

I'm not sure a weekend with Edward where I may, or may not, be tempted to sleep with him again qualifies but god knows what else I'm saving them for.

And they _are_ beautiful, sparkling in the overhead lights.

I hesitate for a moment and then snap the box shut, shoving it in my purse.

...

Rose's words are rattling around in my head as I board the flight to Louisville.

Edward's never really been out of my life, just less prevalent in it than he was in college and that was inevitable I suppose, as we grew up and went on with our lives. It certainly made it easier to separate friendship from physical intimacy.

But that line is getting blurred again for some reason and I'm not sure how worried about it I should be. No one wants to get hurt but perhaps I'm worrying about nothing, it's just Edward, us. I still know better than to expect anything from him beyond what we have and Rose is right, it's not like I'm _looking_ to settle down. We're adults, why shouldn't we be friends with benefits if we both enjoy it and no one else seems remotely bothered by it?

Nevertheless I am equal parts excited and nervous about this weekend. Unsure how to behave or what to expect. Not a familiar sensation in recent years but not necessarily a bad one, it sort of proves I'm not the emotional blank space Jake once accused me of being . . . .

...

I see him as soon as I clear the baggage claim, lounging against a pillar and scowling down at his cell.

Grumpy looking Edward can be quite hot, he gets this little kink between his heavy eyebrows that hints at his inner caveman.

But when he looks up and spots me approaching his face relaxes into a beaming smile that just has to be returned.

...

His apartment is nothing like I imagined, turns out one of his clients is a British architect who helped him design a barn conversion, and I do mean barn, some of the old stalls are still on the ground floor but instead of housing horses they're now home to his cars and assorted sports paraphernalia. Apparently the locals all think he's bat shit crazy when there are plenty of perfectly good houses around, but I love it on sight.

Upstairs is simply laid out and all open plan apart from the bathroom. Light streams in through the huge windows illuminating the old waxed wood of the floor so the whole place literally _glows_.

"You like?" He asks with a grin as I twirl slowly on the faded rag rug in the middle of the living area.

"I love. It's amazing Edward."

I don't know how but his massive quantities of man technology and the seriously modern kitchen don't even jar with the old wood and fittings.

"How?" I ask, wondering about load bearing walls, fire places and plumbing in what was essentially a wooden agricultural building that looks like it was built a century ago.

"Some of the supporting beams aren't exactly as 'wood' as they look. Derek is a genius."

"I'll say."

We lapse into silence as I wonder what to say next and he watches me.

"Do you have a guest room?" I ask eventually, even though I can guess what the answer is going to be.

"No." He says, moving toward me. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"I don't know." I reply honestly, looking up as he comes to a stop looking down at me.

"I want you Bella. I always want you. But I didn't invite you here just for that."

"You didn't?" I ask, eyes drawn to his lips.

"No." They say somewhat huskily. "I've loved spending time with you again and I thought we'd both enjoy going to the ball together."

"You said it was a big dinner." I accuse them.

"And so it is, but there will also be dancing." They inform me, quirking into a crooked grin.

"Oh." Is the best I can manage as they press together enticingly for a moment.

"I am going to kiss you now." They announce quietly as they advance. "Unless you have any objections to the setting on this occasion?"

"Um . . . . mmm . . . ."

My eyes close, my stomach flips over, my knees wobble and my toes curl as the lips move deliberately but easily over mine, parting them gently so that his tongue can slip through . . . .

When they withdraw some time later my eyes flutter open to view the most spectacular type of quicksand.

It's smiling at me in a way that suggests that it's perfectly well aware that it's just scrambled my mind.

"The car's picking us up in two hours." It says stepping back. "Do you want to shower first, or shall I?"

Together! My body screams.

"I'll go first if that's okay?" My brain suggests, buying time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 15 Belle of The Ball**

**BPOV**

There's isn't exactly a big reveal when we're ready to leave, though I did at least get dressed in the bathroom, unlike Edward who, being Edward, just whipped his towel off and got dressed without batting an eyelid. Of course I watched that show, I'm only human.

And its was weirdly _not_ odd as he lounges on his bed, watching me apply my makeup and put my hair up while we chat easily.

He doesn't comment when I open the leather case and put the diamond drop earrings in but he jumps up immediately when I lift out the necklace, gesturing for it as he comes to stand behind me.

"Harry Winston?" He observes having glanced at the case as he places them around my throat and moves my hair to fasten the clasp.

Even the light brush of his fingers transfers his warmth into me. How _does_ he do that?

"Yes."

"Who gave them to you?"

"The Old Man."

He steps back, smiling at me now in the mirror.

"They look beautiful against your skin."

"Thank you."

"You about done?"

"Just lipstick."

"Am I allowed to kiss you once the lipstick is applied?"

"Pfft. No. How many times have you heard Esme yell at Carlisle for the same offence?"

"In that case." He chuckles, grabbing my waist and spinning me round. "I'd better get in while I have the chance."

And he lays one on me, bending me backwards bodice ripper style.

Its not sexy or sweet, just hilarious and we break apart laughing.

"Okay." He says as he steps away from me again. "You can apply your lipstick now."

...

Bless Aro, this is indeed an occasion, there's even a receiving line, along which the diamonds I was so worried about pale into insignificance.

Not that I care. Years ago this would have intimidated me. Being on Edward's arm with so many predatory women covertly sizing him up would have intimidated me. But I'm made of sterner stuff these days.

I even know some of the people here just as Aro predicted, though I'd previously had no idea they owned racehorses.

Its a beautiful venue and beautifully decorated and I have to wonder if Aro has a crystal ball since my light blue silk dress is bang on the color scheme.

We grab a glass of champagne and wander off to one side so Edward can quietly tell me who everyone is.

"How many of these women have you actually slept with?" I ask as another beautiful specimen finds an excuse to walk past and give us both the once over. Hot eyes for him, appraisal and narrowed eyes for me.

"Um." He hesitates, looking embarrassed for once. "A few?"

I roll my eyes but he doesn't laugh, instead he changes the subject.

...

The dinner is pretty good and we're at a table that includes several trainers that he seems to know quite well. And they clearly know who I am and are applying varying degrees of persuasion to get me to buy a horse and place it with them.

Its fun.

...

After dinner most people set off table hopping while the orchestra warms up but Edward and I kick back with our cocktails to people watch.

Back in the day, the circling women would be closing in on him by now, but femme fatale wise we're in a little oasis of calm. Its different and I'm not so unaware that I don't realise why. They're not scared of me, but things have changed enough for them to think twice about making a move on him while he's sat next to me.

I like it.

So much so that I may be smirking at the more obvious ones.

Okay, so I am, because every time I do a chuckle rumbles in Edward's chest.

"Enjoying yourself?" He whispers eventually as he coils one of the trailing tendrils of my hair around his finger.

"So far so good."

"Ready to dance?"

"No, there aren't nearly enough people out there yet."

He leans toward me, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear as he speaks.

"I didn't think you'd care about things like that anymore?"

I turn to face him, accidently rubbing our noses together.

"Just how much do you think I've changed?" I ask, sounding pathetically breathless.

"I don't know." He murmurs. "But I am going to enjoy the finding out."

"Edward!" Someone yells, slapping him on the back so our foreheads smack together. "Oops. Sorry. Edward, been looking for you, we need to talk about Violet, you haven't been to see her for two weeks."

We remain face to face.

"Violet's a broodmare." He laughs quietly.

"Oh."

And he pulls away, turning to face the intruder.

"Hi John, you haven't called me so I assumed everything was alright with her pregnancy."

"I think it is Edward, she seems fine, but I'm not the expert am I?" The man responds, plonking into the chair beside Edward and launching into a long tale about things I'd rather not know.

"Excuse me." I murmur, getting up and heading for the restroom.

The skirts on this dress require a little manouvering but eventually I manage to alight on the toilet seat, relieved to be relieved . . . .

The door bangs open and two people enter, mid gossip.

"I know right? If it were me I'd have sued the surgeon, we've all heard of fish lips but those things are more like camel toes."

"Ew. Maury really screwed up my hair, should I take it down?"

"Its looks fine, just pull a few wisps out, here, let me help . . . ."

They're silent for a moment.

"Better?"

"Yes, thanks Carla, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"De nada. Did you see Cullen? Damn if he can't decorate a tux."

"Don't." The other one groans. "Have you seen who he's with? I didn't believe the rumours were true but he really _is_ dating La Belle Bella. He's so out of my league now it hurts my heart."

"I told you giving him a chance to grieve for Tanya Denali was a mistake."

"I was trying to be nice. Supportive."

"Nice girls finish last Lucy."

"And on that depressing note, lets get back out there . . . ."

...

I laugh to myself as I make my way back to the table, wondering if poor Lucy is one of the women now surrounding Edward.

One has her hand on his shoulder as she leans into his personal space, earnestly whispering something in his ear while her other hand caresses his bicep.

Now back in the day I would have withdrawn to my friends at this point but that's not happening tonight. _He_ invited _me_.

I retake my seat, carefully arranging my skirt and then I lean into his unoccupied ear, exhaling a long breath into it.

"Edward." I purr when he shivers. "My glass is empty."

"Excuse me Nancy." He murmurs, leaning toward me. "Would you like another one Bella?"

"I'd love one Edward."

"Would you like me to get it now Bella?" He murmurs as her hand falls away from his bicep.

"Any moment now Edward." I respond just as quietly as our faces edge closer.

Her other hand slips off his shoulder.

"Right about now in fact."

He smirks at me and gets to his feet.

"Excuse me ladies, Nancy."

We watch him depart.

"Hello." I say to Nancy, offering her my hand. "I'm Bella."

"Hi." She drawls granting me a reluctant handshake, I'd place her in her early twenties and well used to getting laid out by any man she flutters her eyelashes at.

"Are you having fun tonight?"

"I guess."

"You don't know?" I ask, raising my eyebrow and registering the tittering going on around her.

She narrows her brown eyes at me and I laugh, turning away to watch the couples on the dance floor and revel in the feeling of power. I'm sure he'll get round to her eventually if he hasn't already, but it won't be tonight. Tonight he's mine.

Edward returns with our drinks, ignoring them and pulling his chair closer to mine.

"You ready to dance yet?" He asks.

"I think I am."

...

Dancing with Edward is almost as good as kissing him. I'm more than happy to let him take the lead and just enjoy being swayed in his arms.

...

I glance up from the hilarious conversation I'm having with one of the trainers to see Edward bearing down on us, brows knitted together.

"Oops." He says, withdrawing his hand from my knee with an apologetic look. "Someone's feeling a little possessive."

"Laurent." Edward says stiffly as he arrives at our side.

"Edward. My apologies I was so caught up entertaining the fine looking filly you brought with you this evening that I completely forgot about you and my hands wandered."

Edward leans in and kisses my temple, slipping an arm around my waist.

"Sorry Bella, I got caught up with one of the owners."

"Its alright Edward, Laurent was keeping me entertained."

"I bet he was."

The older man, Laurent, who is not without his charms winks at me, lifting my hand to kiss the back of it.

"I will see you later La Belle Bella and we can finish discussing how I am the best man to train your horse. Edward."

Edward nods stiffly in acknowledgement and we watch in silence as he walks away.

"Dance?" Edward asks.

"If you're asking."

"I am."

I slip off the barstool and sneak covert glances at him as he guides me onto the dance floor, the expression on his face is familiar to me but I can't quite work out why . . . .

...

"I'm sorry." She laughs, flapping her hand. "Its odd to realise that our little Edward knows someone as famous as you."

"He's hardly little Moira." I murmur, watching him over her shoulder as he chats with a group of men who are half a head shorter than him and pale into insignificance beside him. God he does decorate that tux well Carla.

"I know, I know." She sighs. "But he was so young and scared when he first joined the practise I just wanted to mother him. I even had Esme send me the recipes for all his favourite meals. I'm sure that sounds sad but my own had flown the nest by then and it so good to have him around the place. And such a nice boy too."

I raise my eyebrow and she laughs.

"Oh I know." She says, winking at me. "He thought he was very subtle but I knew. The wives and daughters had never been so interested in the welfare of their husband's horseflesh before. William still maintains that Edward almost doubles the turnover of the practise with his smile alone, though he's a very fine veterinarian. How long have you known him?"

"Almost ten years, we were in college together."

"Well sometimes these things take time, you make a lovely couple and its nice to see him happy. I couldn't dislike Tanya but they were wrong together from day one, I never could understand it."

"Wrong?"

"Well for a start it was all so sudden, she's beautiful and just his type and I'm sure they'd, you know, but he went home for a week's vacation and all of a sudden when he came back they were dating. It was so unlike him. I wanted to believe it was because he's finally found love but if he had it didn't seem to be making him particularly happy. And I do so want him to be happy but I have to confess I was relieved when he called off the wedding. Though I felt terribly for Tanya. The poor girl, what must it have been like to have come so close?"

I hum in leiu of a response and she's immediately contrite.

"I'm so sorry Bella, how totally inappropriate of me. My children do tell me that I over share. Tell me about this gorgeous dress you're wearing, how did you find it . . . ."

...

"Are you having fun tonight?" He asks as we sway together and I stifle a laugh at his choice of words so I can answer.

"Yes Edward, I am."

"Not too boring compared to what you normally do?"

I lift my head from its spot on his chest to look at him.

"No. Not boring at all."

Our eyes lock and the sudden change from lazy swaying to something else is a like a slap in the face to my mildly drunken contentment.

"If I kiss you now." He says quietly. "Its going to be in the all the newspapers tomorrow."

There's a long, long, pause before I answer his unspoken questions.

"Then you'd better take me home."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 16 Crazy **

**BPOV**

We're silent in the car, both of as looking out of the windows at the passing scenery, our only contact where his hand has flattened mine into the leather of the seat between us.

Occasionally I catch the driver looking at us in his mirror and eventually it dawns on me that the probably thinks we're in the throes of a titanic falling out because we're so still and silent.

If only he knew.

The lights of the city give way to darkness and there's nowhere I can look out of the windows without seeing Edward reflected back at me.

I suppose I'd already made a decision of sorts when I agreed to come here, the decision not to make one yet, to see where Edward's taking this. Rose will roll her eyes, hell even I want to roll my eyes but what conversation exactly does she expect me to start with him? We have no history of defining our relationship, we just are, and I don't see a good enough reason to rock that particular boat yet.

...

He doesn't speak as he follows me up the creaky wooden stairs to his apartment but I can feel his eyes on me. See them in the black glass as I make way across the gloom of the apartment to stand in front of one of the windows and he stops on the rag rug, throwing his jacket onto the couch.

I can't read the expression on his composed face like this but then he probably can't read mine either.

Nevertheless despite the cool air of the open space my body starts to heat in anticipation.

"You drive me crazy." The velvet of his voice is almost a caress, despite the gravelly edge. "You always have. I can't read your mind Bella, you have to tell me what you want."

I turn and walk toward him while he watches me like a hawk.

Without saying a word I focus on his bow tie as I undo it, letting the ends hang down onto his chest, transferring my attention to the buttons of his dress shirt. He doesn't speak but I see his silver necklace move as he swallows. I undo all the buttons before I push the shirt aside to frame his chest, placing my splayed hands on his warm pecs and leaning in to press a soft kiss to his sternum. He shivers and I look up at him through my lashes as I push the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms. I haven't removed his cuff links so it hangs from his wrists, the merest suggestion of trapping him in place.

His eyes are dark in his face, almost black.

Now I focus on his belt, unsnapping it and sliding it free from the loops before dropping it to the rug, leaning in to kiss his chest again, swirling my tongue across his skin to taste him this time earning myself another shiver and a quiet moan.

Then I undo the button and slide down the fly of his pants, freeing them from his hips to slip to the floor where he kicks them off with his shoes.

His dark green boxers strain toward me, capturing my attention and I float my palm lightly over them, noting the wetness seeping through the silk, his hiss and the flutter that travels through his abdominal muscles.

When I look up at his face again I suck in an involuntary breath but I'm not done showing him some of the things that have changed about me so I turn and walk back to the window, watching him watching me in the black glass, reaching up to release my hair from its pins, shaking it out and down my back, keeping my eyes on his the whole time. He may have moaned again, he always loved my hair, loved the feel of it when it brushed his skin . . . . and I smile as it swishes against mine.

He's not smiling though, as I continue my little act. Arms snaking back to unzip my dress, one coming forward to hold it in place across my chest, hair shaken out again until I'm certain he hasn't failed to notice that I'm not wearing a bra. Then I let it go, enjoying the whisper of silk and the puff of air as it drops to the floor. My hands fall to my sides and I don't step out of it as his eyes leave mine to rake over my naked body, front and back, lingering on my stockings and suspenders.

Impatiently I wait for his eyes to return to mine, and then I lick my lips.

He crosses the room in three long strides, coming to an abrupt halt right behind me. The light brush of warm skin against my back, damp silk and his breath on my neck all makes _me_ shiver this time.

_Desire_. Mine and his.

Holding my eyes he yanks his hands roughly free of the shirt, cufflinks bouncing away on the floorboards as his hands come to rest on my shoulders, thumbs kneading me gently.

"Fucking. _Crazy_." He growls, grip tightening briefly before one hand glides up to curl around my neck, sliding up under my hair and the other reaches round to cup my breast, longer fingers brushing over my nipple slowly and gently. He leans down and traces the tip of his tongue along my skin, following the line of the diamonds, watching my reaction in the window pane.

I shiver and bite my lip.

"Everything about you draws me in." He murmurs, voice huskier now. "Your skin, your scent, the way you react to my touch."

I moan as his fingers tweak me almost painfully.

"I want to take my time, savour you, enjoy you, make love to you, but you drive me absolutely _fucking_ crazy."

And he sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me over to the bed and all but throwing me on it, standing over me with his nostrils flared, visibly struggling for control.

Holy shit! There aren't words, or thoughts, or . . . .

In complete contradiction to what my last addled brain was expecting he leans forward, slowly, and undoes the straps of my 'fuck me' heels. Sliding the shoes from my feet and negligently tossing them somewhere into the darkness, possibly to mate with his cufflinks.

Then he kneels on the bed and runs his hands up my legs, dragging the silk stockings over my skin until he reaches the clasps and begins to set them free, hands reaching under my thighs to unsnap them there.

My eyes are focussed on the bronze mess on the top of his head, my fingers itching to twist into it but as curiously passive as the rest of me.

He glances up, all deep dark eyes, as he begins to roll the stockings down my legs, but only briefly.

Its slow, erotic, torture, especially when he pauses to presses his lips chastely against the emerging skin.

Finally he's done, standing again to free himself from his boxers and toe off his socks. Staring into my eyes the whole time, climbing onto the bed and sinuously making his way up my body, hairs tickling my hyper sensitive skin, wide shoulders looming over me in the dim light. And he covers me, body heat banishing the chill from my skin, lips hovering over mine, fingers twirling languidly in my hair.

"I'm going to kiss you now." He informs me.

And he does. Slow. Lazy. Thorough.

My arms wind around him, fingers clutching his neck and pushing into his hair. His thumbs move to caress the skin of my neck, under my ear. And it's me that deepens the kiss, spills the consuming need into it, sets our tongues duelling, our bodies writhing . . . .

And when we're forced to break away for air he attacks my neck, my collar bones, my breasts, my ribs, my stomach, my hips.

He stops, lavishing strokes of his tongue and nips of his teeth on my hip bones, my pubic bone. Building the tension, the anticipation, until my legs wrap around him of their own accord, pushing him downward.

I feel him first as his low chuckle blows air onto me, but it's enough to send one of my hands into his hair and the other diving into the sheets . . . .

A soft kiss. Hands pushing, lifting, placing my thighs over his shoulders. One reaching back up the bed to tangle and clasp his fingers with mine, the other curling under me to grip my hip . . . .

His tongue, warm, wet, yet sharp against me. Kissing, nipping, flattened or strobing. But so slowly I feel like I've been lying here, trembling all over, clenching his fingers with mine, for a blissfully torturous eternity. Moaning and whimpering, painfully aware of the chilled air tugging at the bumps that have broken free on my skin . . . .

"_Edward_ . . . ." I protest, groan, plead, _encourage_.

The hand on my hip slides back beneath me, snaking between my legs, one finger sliding inside me, then two. Pumping, curling, matching the increased tempo of his tongue on my clit.

"_Jesus_." I gasp, writhing. "_Fuck_. _Edward_ . . . ."

Climbing, peaking, soaring, falling into a sea of superheated exploding stars.

By the time I come back to myself he's crawling and kissing his way slowly up my body, pausing to lavish attention on my gratified breasts, my collar bones, my throat.

And then presses me into the bed and slants his mouth down over mine, hungry and demanding. And you'd think I hadn't already been pleasured to the point of inertia, the way I react . . . . I usually hate the taste of myself, but on him, oh god on him . . . .

He rolls us over easily, propping himself up on the pillows and positioning me across his hips so I can feel him, his hands lightly stroking my thighs, waiting, watching . . . .

I reach forward, using my nails to rake over his chest and down his abs, loving the way his muscles dance and he hisses, involuntarily bucking his hips into me. I grind down and he hisses again, his fingers digging into my skin. So I fight them, successfully rising up and leaning forward to trail my hair over him while my lips search out his, my breasts brushing his chest. His hands leave my legs, tangling into my hair, fastening my mouth to his so he can plunge his tongue inside.

He's such a good kisser that I can easily lose myself in it but his hips rolling purposefully beneath mine remind me, compel me and I pull back, rising up and taking him in my hand. There's no hiss as I stroke up and down him, just a long drawn out groan that sends his eyes rolling back into his head.

"Bella . . . ." He grinds out, from husky to hoarse, head hanging back as he rests on his elbows. "Fucking . . . . torturing . . . . me . . . ."

Us.

I guide him to where we both want him to be and sink down on him slowly my own eyes closing at the almost agonising sensation as I yield to accept him. When our hips are flush I tighten around him instinctively, feeling him jolt inside me in response and when I open my eyes again he's staring into them, like he's been waiting . . . .

I rest my hands on his body as we begin to roll our hips, grinding into each other over and over, slow, sensuous, maddening, deep, surprising. There's something so _intense_ . . . . _intimate_ . . . . about the unbroken eye contact . . . . _overwhelming_ . . . . I'm like a volcano . . . . already clearing its throat to sing when Edward begins to thrust up into me with more urgency, one hand rising to curl around my neck and bring my mouth down to his . . . . the desperate kiss urging me to plant my hands on his shoulders and ride him in earnest . . . . rising and falling together . . . .

We both moan when the kiss breaks but I can't . . . . he can't . . . . molten rock is roiling in my abdomen, spitting fireballs with every increasingly frantic meeting of our hips . . . . the hand that's curled around my neck shifts into my hair, pulling my head back so that I have to look into his eyes . . . . and it's too much . . . . the smell of us, the feel of us, those eyes . . . . the volcano erupts . . . . obliterating everything with a flash of scorching heat . . . . including Edward . . . . who buries himself deep, using his strength to seal us together . . . . spilling inside me . . . . wrapping his arms around me as we shudder and cry out . . . . bringing me down onto his chest . . . . pressing my cheek against his rapidly beating heart . . . . gasping my name . . . .

...

I wake up, warm all over, to a lazy sleep humping.

Bless his horny little self.

Rolling over I ease him away from me, loving the frowny pout that appears on his now stubbly face and the way his heavy arm just finds another way to mash me into the bed. Not that I feel compelled to escape this time. Instead I close my eyes and snuggle into his chest.

...

When I wake again it's to the enticing aroma of wafted coffee . . . .

"Mmm . . . ."

"Less 'mmm' and more sitting up." He laughs. "Wafting equals cooling."

Grumbling I struggle upright, remembering I'm naked when his eyes drop to my breasts.

"Do you mind?" I huff, taking the mug but not covering myself up.

"About as much as you do." He says, getting comfortable beside me with his own mug.

I tug the sheet up with my free hand and he reaches over and tugs it down again, laughing.

I tug it back up, laughing.

He tugs it back down, smirking.

And then suddenly it's not funny as he takes the mug out of my hands and sets it on the nightstand with his . . . .

...

He drives me to the airport in silence.

Not uncomfortable, but not comfortable either.

Just, _heavy_ . . . . and _separate_ . . . .

...

We stand, side by side, at my departure gate.

It's awkward, but maybe that's just me, because I can admit, to myself, that I don't want to leave. Go back. At least not yet.

When my flight is called he gathers me, abruptly, into his arms.

"If I kiss you now it's going to be in all the newspapers tomorrow." He murmurs as he looks down at me, hands rubbing my back.

I don't know what to say, how to answer this unspoken question either, so I close my eyes and offer myself up to the gods, shivering when I feel his breath on my face . . . . and then his lips on mine . . . . and then the quicksand closing over my head . . . .


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 17 Sum Tings Wong**

**BPOV**

Without being forced I log onto my laptop, checking out the pictures of the ball but deliberately not reading the ludicrous column inches given over to the fanciful imaginings of us finding 'love'. Though my mouse does keep scrolling back to the picture of us, kissing, at Louisville airport.

I shouldn't have let him kiss me in such a public place it's just fuelled a furore on a Sunday that's clearly a slow news day for the 'celeb' industry.

I shouldn't have done it because they'll be hounding him now. And I shouldn't have done it because though I'm unsure what's happening between us this time, if anyone finds out we're not 'dating' in the generally accepted sense of the word they're going to be speculating about shit I care about, and it's going to hurt.

I close the browser and sip my beer.

Work Bella. Focus. Concentrate . . . .

My cell chirps.

'You get back okay? x'

'Yes thanks, you?'

'Safe and sound. Going to bed now, you tired me out ;o)'

'Night Edward x'

'Night Bella xx'

Five minutes later it rings, flashing Rose's face at me.

"Hi."

"Hi. So?"

"So, what?"

"How was your date?"

I sigh, accepting defeat.

"It was good thanks. Great even."

"You make a cute couple."

"You've been looking at the pictures?" Shit, busted, I wince and she laughs.

"Seems I'm not the only one. That's quite a PDA they captured at the airport."

"He was saying goodbye." I snicker.

"Yeah, nothing says goodbye like fistfuls of each other's hair and some serious tonsil hockey."

We laugh together for a while and then I groan.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"Yes." She chuckles. "You should have, it's about time you peed on his leg."

"Ew, that's a lovely visual."

"Apt though, so, Thanksgiving . . . ."

...

Reports, reports, reports.

I wonder what they'd say if I threw my door open and skipped down the halls flinging them at people with maniacal cackling?

Tempted to find out, but no, it probably wouldn't do the share price any good.

The next line I'm trying to read blurs before my eyes yet again and I huff in frustration, my concentration is shot to shit today.

Not that last week was much better.

My mind's not on Cask. And it's not entirely on Edward either, though frankly it's been going there rather a lot. It's just, all over the place. And it's making me cranky. I cannot _wait_ to get through this week and into next, thank god for Thanksgiving.

Nope. Still blurred.

Lauren jumps when I open my door.

"Going out?" She asks.

Stupid question since I've already got my coat on and am winding a scarf around my neck.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take an early lunch, I need some fresh air."

"Should I call Demetri?"

"No, I won't be gone long, will you let him know though please?"

"Will do."

"Want me to pick you up something to eat?" I ask as I punch the button for the elevator.

"Thanks, but no, I have a lunch date."

"Hmm. Anyone I know?"

She shakes her head as the doors open.

"Have fun." I call over my shoulder as they close behind me.

I'd never be able to sneak out like this if Char was still here but Felix isn't one of my best friends and he has me on a much longer leash . . . .

...

Wednesday.

My early lunches have become something of a habit, one that clears my head and just about gets me through the rest of day, nevertheless it hasn't worked today.

Hump Day.

Still, this time next week . . . .

My laptop dings and I glance at it with a complete lack of interest until I spot the incoming mail is from Edward A Cullen.

Which makes me smile.

He's not exactly inundating me but we've spoken, emailed or texted every couple of days. Inane stuff and harmless flirting mostly. I'm enjoying it though.

_Subject: Midnight Sun_

_This is the horse Laurent would like you to buy . . . ._

_E_

_xx_

_Subject: Pretty Horse_

_What the hell am I going to do with a horse?_

_B_

_Subject: Re: Pretty Horse_

_Race it._

_He's a good colt with a lot of potential._

_His sire ran in the Derby a few years back and placed well._

_E_

_Subject: Suspicious_

_Do you get a commission if I buy a horse?_

_B_

_Subject: Wounded_

_Of course not, but it would mean you'd have to come to Kentucky . . . ._

_xx_

_Subject: Re: Wounded_

_I was in Kentucky a couple of weeks ago and . . . . holy shit . . . . its two million dollars!_

_B_

_Subject: Laughing_

_Its a very pretty horse Bella, what do you expect?_

_xx_

_Subject: Shocked_

_Is it gold plated?_

_x_

_Subject: Gold Plating_

_The gold comes when it starts winning races._

_xx_

The intercom buzzes, startling me halfway through typing my response.

"Bella?"

"Yes Lauren?"

"There's a Detective Sokolov here from the NYPD."

"What does he want?"

"He says he needs to talk to you about James Trevisano."

Shit.

"Show him in please Lauren."

Detective Sokolov reminds me a lot of Charlie, exuding competence and caring without being overbearing and I listen while he talks.

And then I make a call.

"Demetri?" I whisper into my cell. "I'm really sorry to bother you but would you mind coming up to my office for a minute?"

"Of course not Bella, what can I do for you?"

"Um, James Trevisano has skipped bail."

"I'll be right there and I'll bring Steve Nichols with me."

"Thanks."

I offer the Detective some coffee and an embarrassed shrug while we wait. But I can't help it. James scared the ever loving shit out of me and I don't want to have to deal with this on my own.

...

I prowl my apartment sipping beer and completely unable to relax.

I'd done a very good job of blocking him out of my thoughts though I guess in a way he's always there. That night is the last night ever I walked anywhere alone. But I hadn't known the things Detective Sokolov told me this afternoon. His history of violence against women. His long standing obsession with me. They aren't sure he's going to come after me but they aren't ruling it out either.

Of course I'm an idiot and I argued with Demetri about how much protection he thought I should have until James is caught, but in truth it was an argument I was ultimately happy to lose.

Ugh. I should have moved out of this damn place already, then at least he wouldn't know where I live. Not that I'm not safe here. The Concierge has a 'little' friend for the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

I wish . . . .

_Subject: Sorry_

_Shit blew up at work._

_So Midnight Sun could really win races?_

_B_

_x_

I wasn't expecting a reply, I just felt better writing to him for some reason, but my laptop pings within a few minutes.

_Subject: Risk_

_Its always a risk with horses Bella._

_Why don't you come down and meet him?_

_E_

_xx_

_Subject: Etiquette_

_Do I bring him flowers?_

_Subject: No_

_Lol, some flowers are highly poisonous to horses. I suggest sugar lumps or carrots._

_When can you come?_

_xx_

_Subject: Diary_

_Let me check . . . ._

_x_

_Subject: Re: Diary_

_We could travel back here together after Thanksgiving?_

_xx_

_Subject: Like_

_Sounds like a good idea but I need to check with my diary and Rose._

_x_

_Subject: Sister-In-Law_

_Let me know if she gives you grief and I'll threaten her crowning glory_

_xx_

_Subject: Rude_

_Sisters before misters_

_Night Edward_

_xx_

_Subject: Night Bella xxx_

...

Demetri and I fall into a new routine.

He picks me up for work as usual, with my favourite coffee, and escorts me to my office.

At about eleven thirty he shows up and helps me into my coat and we go for a walk. I've learned more about my adoptive city in a few days of walking it with him than I have in years. And also that what I thought was best hotdog in New York was in fact the palest imitation.

...

I have a charity dinner tonight and I'm a patron so I have to go.

Demetri understands, and he's going to drop me off and pick me up, but his lips are still pressed into a thin line as Aro fusses around 'perfecting' my hair and makeup.

"It's okay, I'll know everyone there." I remind the silent giant.

"No, you won't."

"But I'll know Trevisano if I see him and there'll be people everywhere. I'll just call you."

"It's still a risk."

"You know it'd be nice if you tried to play it down and help me relax." I huff.

"I'm sorry." He says, not sounding remotely so. "It would have been much easier if you'd just called your boyfriend and asked him to escort you as I requested."

"He's not my . . . . whatever . . . . I didn't. I'm just going to eat, make a speech and run, I'm exhausted anyway."

"Keep still." Aro hisses. "You've lost weight and the dress is gaping, I need to tack it."

...

It's not until I'm entering the function room at the swanky hotel that I realise that it's the first time I've actually been to something like this without a date.

Oh well.

...

My cell chirps and I slide it out of my purse and under the table.

'How'd your speech go?'

'Good I think, they laughed in all the right places and clapped at the end'

'You looked beautiful'

'Are you cyber stalking me again?'

'I may have been. I'm on duty and nothing's happening'

'That's really not flattering'

'Isabella Marie Swan. What else am I going to do with my night shift but think about you and Google your luscious ass on line?'

'So suave'

'I wish you wouldn't call me that'

"Bella?"

"Oh sorry." I murmur, putting my cell back in my purse as a business associate appears at my side. "These things are addictive."

"I know." He chuckles, taking the empty seat beside me. "I'm not sure if my daughter is marrying her fiancé or her smart phone, she seems equally enamoured of both. I'm sorry to disturb you but I wanted to talk to you about Cincinnati, I believe we have some mutual interests there . . . ."

The rest of the night passed quickly but I couldn't help but notice the flash of relief on Demetri's face when I descended the hotel steps to the car in one piece.

...

My cell has chirped a couple of times but I've resisted the temptation to pull it out, instead focussing on the people I was with.

But as soon as my apartment door closes behind Demetri I whip it out, scrolling through the messages, looking for Edward.

'I know what you all used to call me but I'd like to think I've grown a little since then, lol'

I laugh to myself because he was known as Suaveward all over campus after the first semester.

'Sorry, got caught up in work stuff. But you are suave Edward, you know you are'

When he doesn't reply I assume he's busy and put myself to bed.

...

Saturday is not one of Charlie's better days and I'm in floods of tears when Demetri meets me at the entrance, ushering me into the car and taking me home so I can bury myself in bed with a tub of ice cream and my laptop for the rest of the day.

Sunday with Mom isn't much of an improvement either but at least she didn't call me an ungrateful cunt this week, in fact she seemed quite interested in the idea that I might buy a racehorse. I really can't work that woman out anymore . . . .

...

The short week drags by extremely slowly but eventually its Wednesday afternoon and Demetri is driving me to the airport.

He's not entirely happy about me leaving but he's agreed that I ought to be fairly safe with the Cullens and he has family of his own to spend time with. He feels a bit like the old Charlie this afternoon, lecturing me on not going anywhere alone and keeping my cell charged, but he had to agree with Detective Sokolov that Trevisano is unlikely to find me anywhere outside of the city.

Nevertheless he insists on accompanying me to my gate, another image for everyone to speculate about.

...

As soon as the wheels lift off the runway I sigh in relief, glad to be leaving it all behind me for a while . . . .


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 18 Kangaroo Clams**

**BPOV**

"Wow." I observe as I climb into Rose's car at the airport. "You look frazzled."

"Thanks." She growls.

"Its just dinner." I offer lamely.

"It's a Cullen Thanksgiving Bella." She sighs as she pulls away from the kerb.

"I know Esme rocks it but come on Rose, she adores you, she won't care if you serve up a TV dinner."

"I know she won't but that's not the point and you know it."

"I'll help . . . ."

"Yeah, Cyggers, I love you to distraction but your dodgy culinary skills aren't coming anywhere near my first Thanksgiving Dinner."

"I'll set the table and pour the drinks." I concede.

"Perfect. I can't trust Giantus Doofus to do it properly, he'll just serve everyone beer."

"Rose, chill, everyone _likes_ beer."

"Oh my god." She groans. "I'm turning into Tanya."

"Maybe just a little bit."

"Bitch."

"Over Achiever."

"God I'm glad you're here, I seriously need to blow off some steam before tomorrow . . . ."

...

Em greets me with a smacking kiss and then thunders upstairs, muttering about being late.

I raise my eyebrow at her as we wander into the kitchen.

"Beer." She drawls. "Edward got in tonight too so they're hitting the local bars."

"What's that?" I ask, distracted by the large tray she's retrieved from the refrigerator.

"A little something to soak up the beer." She says, tilting it so I can see.

Loaded nachos.

Yum!

I reach out.

"Jesus Bella." She laughs, swatting my hand away. "At least wait till they're hot."

"Fine." I huff, withdrawing to the counter as she shoves them in the oven. "But just so you know the donut stand at the airport was closed and I missed lunch today."

She makes mini violin motions and I stick my tongue out at her.

"Here." She orders, shoving a bottle of red at me. "Open this and we'll have some empty calories. I just need to go check Em's got all his chores done before he goes out on the lash."

"You're leaving me in charge of cooking?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Its melting not cooking, just take it out when it's done." She calls over her shoulder as she darts out. "Emmett! Where are you?"

I open the wine and pour out two glasses, grabbing one of Rose's magazines and leaning on the counter, quickly losing myself in an article about dressing for success which even has a picture of me and Char at a 'Women in Business' thing we attended.

It isn't long though before my attention starts to wander, there's a distinct smell in the air.

Oh shit, there's smoke coming out of the oven.

"Rose! Rose!" Fuck! "ROSE! It's fucking smoking, what do I do?"

Yeah, I'm a lot more 'Woman in Business' than 'Woman in Kitchen'.

Nevertheless it occurs to me that switching the oven off and opening the door might be the way to go because smoke might mean fire.

I open the oven door, recoiling from the intense heat and billow of smoke.

"Shit. Fuck." Staggering back I flap my arms around trying to dispel the swirling cloud.

An alarm begins to sound somewhere.

Where the fuck is everyone?

In my agitation I circle the kitchen, flapping my arms, chanting a litany of 'oh shits' to myself.

And that's when I hear the deep rich chuckle of the one person who I would probably wish _wouldn't_ see me like this.

"Need a little help there Bella?" He asks and I look up to find him leaning against the door frame, smirking.

My heart does a funny little skip but I force my attention back to the oven, peering in now that most of the smoke has risen to the ceiling.

"Ah shit." I sigh. It doesn't look good. It really doesn't.

"Mind out." He orders, crossing the kitchen to open the windows and snatching up the oven mitts.

He bends over, affording me an eyeful and peers into the oven.

"What was it?"

"Loaded Nachos."

"Yum." He says, pulling the tray out and regarding the charred remains sadly. "I was starving."

"I'm sorry."

"Fortunately I'm not after you for your cooking skills." He laughs, setting the tray on the stove top and reaching up to deactivate the alarm on the ceiling.

A cold blast of air from the window makes me shiver and the closes the gap between us, wrapping his hands around my upper arms.

"Hi." He says, looking down at my upturned face.

"Hi." I murmur.

"I'm going to kiss you now." He says, studying me seriously.

"Good." Might as well be honest.

And he grins his crooked grin but I can hear footsteps and curse words approaching down the stairs so I take matters into my own hands, the first time I think, that I've ever kissed him first. And I think it was a surprised happy sound he made when my lips fastened onto his, but I can't be sure because there's screeching . . . .

"What the fucking fuck is going on in here?!"

...

"So." She says, kicking back and resting her fluffy bunny clad feet on the coffee table. "How was Kentucky really?"

"It was good."

"How good?"

I blush.

"Ah." She says, taking a swig from her wine. "That good. Has he said anything?"

"Like what?"

"Oh Bella." She moans theatrically. "I'm a decade too late but I've finally realised I need you to be my girlfriend?"

"No Rose." I laugh. "He didn't say anything like that."

"So was it just the same old same old?"

"I guess." I shrug, flipping my feet up next to hers.

She snorts and we're silent for a while, listening to the music we queued up on her iPod.

"Can I ask you a question?" She asks, side eyeing me and butting my foot with hers.

"You usually do." I remind her.

"Why didn't you date in college?"

"No one ever asked me."

"That's not entirely true, a few guys did, back in the early days. But I digress. Did you ever wonder why nobody asked you on a date?"

"No." I giggle snort. "I was hardly a man magnet in those days, they saw you, pitched a tent in their pants and that was that."

"That's not true, you were hot even then, you just didn't know it. I've been thinking about it a lot recently and Esme said a couple of things that made me think."

"Made you think what?"

"That most of the guys on campus would have assumed you were dating Edward and that he never once did anything to disabuse them of that idea."

"Rose, come on, this is Edward we're talking about. He 'did' many _many_ things that made it rather obvious we weren't dating. Most them with long blonde hair and _really_ big boobs."

"He did, didn't he?" She chuckles. "But, and hear me out here. You were nearly always with him and no matter where we were if there were guys around he nearly always had his hands on you somewhere. He might not have wanted to call you his girlfriend but he went out of his way to make sure you weren't anyone else's."

I'm silent for a moment, sipping my beer.

"You make him sound like a complete asshole." I point out.

"I know and we both know he's not that, it's just . . . . Do you remember, when it I told you in San Fran that I'd asked him if was in love with you?"

"Yes, vividly, and thanks for giving me that enduring image of what a loser I was back then."

"You're welcome. But I don't think you joined the dots, I didn't until I was talking to Esme."

"What dots?"

"It was after that he stopped hanging out with us for a couple of months."

I'm silent, sipping my beer and thinking back. I don't know if her recollection of the timing is off or not, though the dots she's joining are pretty ridiculous. But I do remember that time. It was when it finally dawned on my brain, which should have had my back, that I _had_ fallen in love him. I missed the absolute fuck out of him, not that I ever told anyone, not even Rose, that. But I hadn't been all that surprised, he was one of the golden ones on campus and I was one of the pasty little ghosts that provided a backdrop to their infinitely more exciting lives.

I'd even started to hate him a little bit even though it was madly presumptuous of me to expect something from him, nothing had ever been offered _or_ asked for, but I had thought we'd been friends and it had stung when he'd just disappeared.

And when he'd turned up on my doorstep one night, out of the blue, blind drunk and visibly upset I'd been mad enough with him to turn him away. He'd looked so devastated that I'd already started after him to bring him back when Em and Rose turned the corner of the hallway and took the decision out of my hands, full of concern for the obvious state he was in.

We never did find out what was wrong with him and he never told us.

Em shoved him in the shower and put him to sleep in my bed. I slept on the couch, waking up sometime later with his familiar form curled around me and his nose buried in my hair.

I'd like to say our relationship changed after that. But I was pathetic and it didn't, though it _was_ pretty awkward for a while and it was a very long time before he attempted to charm his way into my panties again.

Rose's foot nudges me again, jerking me back to the present.

"Congratulations Rose." I drawl. "You've just connected all the dots for an elephant and made a fucking kangaroo."

"I know." She laughs. "Sorry. Esme and I were just trying to make sense of the two of you. You just seemed so _together_ most of the time it was difficult to remember that you weren't. And now, it's happening again."

"We're just friends Rose." I sigh the familiar mantra, just more heavily than I'd intended.

"It's not the same this time though, is it?" She asks quietly.

I sip my beer again.

"No." I admit just as quietly. "Its not."

"Maybe . . . ." She begins.

"Don't Rose, _please_."

A long Amazonian arm stretches out, pulling me into her side.

"I love you Cyggers." She sighs, clinking our beer bottles together. "But you're like a fucking clam when it comes to anything personal."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's just one in a long line of things that you and my brother-in-law have in common. And don't hate Esme and me for speculating, we don't mean any harm, we're just fascinated with clams."

"I'll let you off." I sigh, relaxing against her. "Just as long as you don't try an' pry one of us open with a knife."

We drink in silence for a while, mindlessly swaying to the music, as much as you can when you're slumped on the couch.

"Rose?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you remember when Edward started dating Tanya?"

She scrunches her face up for a moment.

"Yeah, I think it was around the time you shacked up with Jake because I remember being in New York helping you guys move when Esme told me that Moira had let it slip he had a girlfriend."

Oh, but no, still a Kangaroo

...

We're safely tucked up in our beds when the boys get back some time later, their loud inebriated voices filling the house with random noise, jerking me out of my fitful wine fuelled slumber. They quieten for a while and I doze off again only to be woken by the sound of raised voices and then the front door slamming.

I roll over to find Rose hovering in the hallway outside my room.

"What?"

"I don't know." She whispers as we listen to someone stomping around downstairs. "Stay there, I'll go find out what's up."

"Hell no, we'll go together, just in case."

I jump out of bed and we link arms to descend the stairs.

"Em?" She calls when we're near the bottom.

"Hey babe." He sighs, appearing from the study with a scotch on the rocks. "Cyggers. Sorry, did we wake up up?"

"Kind of." Rose snorts, going to his side while I linger on the stairs. "Was that Edward?"

"Yeah, I was gonna let him crash on the couch but the asshole's walking home now."

"What happened?" I ask.

"Just an out pouring of brotherly love, we had too much to drink."

"And another one is a good idea why?" Rose asks with a light laugh.

"Too wound up to sleep now, need a nightcap. You ladies go back to bed."

"Hell no." Rose laughs, beckoning me to follow her into the study. "No one should nightcap alone, right Bella?"

"Right." I confirm, patting his beefy arm as I squeeze by him. "You'd better get some more ice . . . ."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 19 Meatloaf**

**BPOV**

Rose, my hangover, and a Thanksgiving dinner to cook do not a happy combination make but we manage and everything's going to her rather exacting plan when Esme and Carlisle arrive with a very subdued looking Edward in tow.

"Hangover?" I murmur in sympathy as we meet in the hallway.

His lips quirk up but the smile doesn't go anywhere near his dull green eyes.

Everyone else has made it into the kitchen where noisy greetings are being made but there's something about the set of his shoulders that has me automatically reaching for his hand.

"Hey." I say as I capture it. "Are you okay?"

His green eyes search mine for a moment as we stand there and I'm just beginning to feel awkward and consider withdrawing my hand when his fingers close around mine, squeezing briefly.

"I . . . . we need to talk." He says quietly.

"Okay."

"After dinner?"

"Okay?"

He nods withdrawing his hand and I follow him into the kitchen.

Okay then . . . .

...

I wasn't sure what to expect from today, two devoted couples and whatever Edward and I are these days, and there's nothing wrong with it per se. Dinner was spectacular. We ate, drank, talked and laughed our way through it in just the way I would have expected, wanted. But I felt curiously flat as we retired to the living room. Edward's eyes have been on me all day but nothing else. No hugging, no kissing, not even any casual touching when we were talking. And though we've not been truly touchy feely for years, I feel the loss after the way we've been for the last couple of months. I know I shouldn't, nothing offered and nothing asked for, but I do.

Consequently instead of just flopping out on a couch I feel awkward enough to take the armchair, leaving him, perhaps only in mind, to hover uncertainly for a moment before taking Rose's antique rocker.

"Your turn next year Cyggers." Em chuckles as he stretches out on the couch with his feet in Rose's lap.

"Only if you want it catered." I remind him. "But it would be great it if you could all come."

"We'd love to." Esme assures me as she and Carlisle snuggle up on the other couch. "I've never spent Thanksgiving in New York and I'd love to try Black Friday there. Rose and I would be happy to cook, wouldn't we?"

"Sure." Rose chuckles. "If Bella doesn't mind us popping the cherry on her kitchen appliances."

"Rude." I laugh. "And Edward's done that already."

I don't miss the look Em directs at his younger brother but the conversation moves on swiftly . . . .

...

We continue to talk, laugh and drink until Em decides he's hungry again and we descend on the kitchen to make 'leftover' sandwiches. It sounds disgusting but I would urge anyone to try it, a little bit of everything from dinner, oozing and soggy between doorsteps of the freshest bread. Yum . . . .

By the time we're done I'm beyond drunk and beyond conscious of Edward's eyes on me, so I make my excuses and head up to bed. Charlie always said you shouldn't sleep on a full stomach so I don't, curling up in the chair with a blanket instead. I don't know what I'd do without the Cullens on holidays, I tried spending them with Dad or Mom but that always ended in some kind of disaster that left a pall, like a mushroom cloud.

Edward and I didn't get a chance to talk but we're supposed to be flying to Kentucky tomorrow night so we'll have plenty of time.

...

Attuned to it as I am, the cheeping of my cell wakes me up.

It's in my lap so I peer at it groggily, even as I realise how stiff and cold I am from falling asleep in the chair.

Five am?

'Are you awake?'

'I am now'

'Sorry. We need to talk'

'At five am?'

'Please Bella, I'm sorry, it's important'

'Now?'

'I'm outside'

'Come in, I'll meet you downstairs'

'Can't Em locked me out'

'K'

I unkink my muscles and totter into the bathroom to relive myself. I'm pale and mussed up in the mirror but my body seems to have started working again even if my mind hasn't. I'm pretty sure it's still inebriated, it was very well soaked earlier . . . .

Pulling on my boots and coat I creep downstairs and let myself out to find him waiting on the porch.

"Jesus." I complain immediately. "It's freezing out here."

"But beautiful."

I look around. Everything is covered in frost and shrouded in wisps of fog. He's right, it is beautiful and so I wrap my arms around myself to keep the heat in and sit next to him on the porch swing, his long legs immediately setting it swinging with no perceptible effort.

It's beautiful, but it's cold.

"Why are we out here?" I ask. "Is everything okay?"

"Em and I got in a fight."

"So I heard."

"Did he tell you what it was about?"

"No, he was most resistant to our efforts to pry it out of him."

Edward snorts and fixes his eyes on the tree line.

"It was about you."

Oh.

"I don't . . . . I'm probably not going to explain this very well." He says, glancing at me briefly.

I hum, suitably noncommittal, but able to watch his profile when he turns back to the ghostly trees looming out of the fog and starts to twist his hands together between his knees.

"He reminded me what I, we, were like in college and it didn't make great listening if I'm honest. He said you were in love with me, back then, and I'd thought that too, then, sometimes. But you were always so _composed_, so easy about everything. It was so natural to take what I needed from you. I liked having you in my life, I liked having you in my family and I liked having you in my bed.

I'll admit, in the spirit of being honest, that I thought about it sometimes. Us. But I was a selfish asshole. I knew that me being the 'defective' Cullen would drive you away completely and I wasn't prepared to risk it. Or you. You deserved _more_, even I could see that."

He's not looking at me, which is a relief because I'm not sure I'm in control of my facial expression at this point.

"And then he asked me what was different this time. And . . . . I couldn't tell him.

I still want you, need you. But . . . ."

Oh hum, I know this song, two out of three ain't bad . . . .

"Nothing's different. It was easy to ask Tanya to marry me because if she'd said no it wouldn't have mattered, at all. But this, whatever it is with you, it _does_ matter. You and Em were right, I am _that_ Suaveward. I pushed it, us, you, deliberately. I wanted us to be photographed together, I _wanted_ the world to think you were mine. I wanted you to give me something of you. When you kissed me at the airport I felt like I'd won some great victory, I floated out of the place on a fucking cloud.

Because I am still that selfish asshole.

I don't understand what I want from you and have no idea what I'd do with it if I got it, except ruin everything. I'm not good enough for you. And so I think, though I don't want him to be, that Em's right. I, we, should stop . . . . whatever it is we're doing . . . . because I'd rather have you in my life as a friend, family, than in no capacity at all."

Silence. I'm aware that I should say something, but what? That's so much more than he's ever said before but my mind can't seem to process any more than that he's breaking up with me. And I thought . . . .

"Bella." His voice is quiet, his hand warm on my immobile one. "Please, say something."

"I . . . ." I shake my head, instinctively moving my hand out from under his. "I don't know what you want me to say, you seem to have thought this all through and . . . . I haven't, so, um. I don't know."

My legs twitch like they want to be in motion but I just keep sitting there, looking at him, watching our breathing coalesce in the air between us. He is the most beautiful man, capable of such warmth and kindness, I really can't be blamed for loving him. Nature's a bitch like that. And I'm not the only one, our friendship is pockmarked by the blubbering wrecks of beautiful women, girls, who thought they'd fallen in love with him too.

I wasn't a fool, I knew I had more of him then than anyone else, I knew he cared for me in his own way. And it was enough. It was always enough. I can't explain why it never made me sad, it just was, and it just didn't.

But _this_, I think this actually _hurts_. My chest feels tight and tears are pricking my eyes, making them the warmest part of me exposed to the frigid air.

I've never given him, told him, anything about what I truly felt but as the tears spill down my cheeks I'm aware that I'm probably submitting a whole book on the subject, for belated publication. But I can't stop them and I don't want to. Weirdly, despite my past efforts, I don't care if he knows I'm hurting. That's probably drink and I'm probably going to regret it in the morning but if I can't let the person I care about most see me cry without the world coming to an end then what's the point to any of it?

Nevertheless old habits die hard and I reach up to scrub the tears away but his hands are already there, cupping my face, thumbs smearing them across my skin.

"You're crying." He observes, face scrunching into a concerned frown.

Oh hell no, don't be nice to me, now is not the time. Tears are one thing, sobbing is _completely_ out of the question . . . .

"Please Bella, don't cry. Shit." His arms wind round me and he drags me into his lap, fitting me easily under his chin, holding me tight, rocking us gently, transferring his warmth into me. Comforting me. Breaking me.

Whimpering I throw my arms round his neck so I can bury my sobs in his chest, his unique scent. Which just makes it so many times worse.

"_Bella_." He groans, hugging me tight enough that my ribs creak.

The giver and reliever of pain.

He stands with me easily, shouldering us through the door and carrying me up the stairs. I don't see Rose but I hear her voice.

"What did you do?"

"Rose, not now."

"Bella?" I feel her hand on my shoulder but my arms tighten round him and he shifts us around her in response.

"Edward . . . ." Whatever she was going to say is cut off as he closes the bedroom door behind us.

He doesn't even let me go as he lays us down on the bed, tangling his legs with mine and pulling the covers up over us.

This tsunami of self pitying crying isn't just about him anymore. Mom, Dad, Trevisano, my life. It's all such a mess, so dissonant, so far from what I would have wanted . . . . and he's the only thing holding me together . . . . to feel so loved . . . . but not be . . . . it really _hurts_ . . . .

"Let it out Bella, let it all out, I have you, I won't let you go."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 20 White Demon**

**BPOV**

My eyes open slowly and painfully, its light outside but the bedroom is still in semi darkness. My throat feels thick and I desperately need a drink of water but I can't move because Edward is clamped around me like a vice.

This is going to be all kinds of awkward, aren't guys supposed to dump you and leave? Its sounds harsh but a lot like ripping off a band aid. Even Jake almost got that right, he fucked me, dumped me, and then left. What then, is Edward's major malfunction?

Slowly and carefully I wriggle out of his arms and tiptoe into the bathroom, peering in the mirror. I wonder if I could recapture this look for Halloween next year? The wild knotted hair, red swollen eyes and pale crusty cheeks. I feel like he and I have been physically fighting all night, tired and achy, but in fact we didn't even speak, I just cried myself to sleep on his chest.

With heavy limbs I turn the shower on and step out of my clothes, brushing my teeth before I slide into the steamy enclosure.

The hot water is a small measure of bliss. Slowly working shampoo through my birds nest hair I think back over last night, his words and my reaction to them, wondering if I _should_ explain myself or just let it go and tell him we'll see each other at Christmas and take it from there.

Dry and dressed again I open the door carefully, hoping that I don't have to make any kind of decision about anything for a bit longer, but no such luck, he's awake and clearly waiting for me.

Okay then, I'll have to wing it.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yes." I tell him, settling myself in the chair.

"I'm sorry." He says sincerely.

Alright, let's start there.

"What for?"

"Upsetting you, hurting you, making you cry. You never cry."

I eye him for a moment and then sigh.

"That's not true. I just never cry in front of _you_."

"Why not?" He wants to know.

Another sigh.

"We never had that kind of relationship. We were always comfortable with each other, and I loved that, but I didn't think that comfort would extend to overt displays of emotion or you listening to my problems. And you never shared yours with me either."

"I care about you Bella, I've always cared about you, there isn't now and never would have been anything I wouldn't have wanted to help you with."

And he means it, he really does. And therein lies the _heart_, oh how I wish I could laugh, of the problem. Do I tell him? What harm can it do? Maybe it will even trigger the leaving part so I can crawl under a rock and lick my wounds. I suppose it even qualifies as an act of aggression at this point, and I am feeling a little aggressive.

"I love you Edward. I've always loved you. How are you going to help me with _that_?"

Silence. I somehow thought there would be. Better out than in? I don't know. I don't feel any worse. Yet. But I can't say there's been any sudden surge of relief either.

"Jake loved me, in the beginning. But though I tried I could never return the sentiment. I was a _complete_ bitch to him. I pushed him and pushed him, needing the _proof _that he loved me. And in the end I pushed him away. I wasn't even all that sorry.

He knew you were the reason and he absolutely _loathes_ you for it."

I pause to see if he's got anything to say yet, but he hasn't.

"But I don't. There isn't actually much difference between you and me when it comes down to it. You didn't make me the way I am, I let that happen because it was easier than facing up to anything. Maybe we're both defective and neither of us deserves to be happy."

"Bella, that's not true, you deserve _everything_ and I wish more than anything that I could be the one to give it to you, I want to love you, I _want_ to make you happy, but I don't know how."

"You were making me happy. Until last night."

He groans, fisting a hand in his hair and tugging on it.

"I need some coffee, do you want some?"

He looks up, seeming surprised that I can think of something so mundane. Actually so am I a bit, but I really do need coffee and my being hopelessly in love with him is old news, at least to me.

"Em's going to kick my ass when he finds out I'm still here."

Silently I point to the A4 sheet of paper taped to the inside of the bedroom door.

'_B, I'm here when you need me, R x_

_E, when Cygger's is done with you your scrawny ass is __MINE__, Fists'_

"Ah." He says, shaking his head and almost smiling at Em's childhood nickname.

"So, coffee?"

"Might as well, thanks."

I pad downstairs, the house is unnaturally quiet and I wonder if they've gone out . . . .

No, they're both in the kitchen reading, looking up in coupley synchronicity when they sense my presence in the doorway.

"I'm only allowed to say sorry." Em says, glancing at Rose who scowls at him. "And I am, very."

"And I'm avid to know what's going on but calling on all my stores of patience." She says. "Do you need anything?"

"Two coffees, if that's okay? We're talking."

"Just brewed a fresh batch, help yourself, there are croissants in the oven too."

"Thanks Rose."

When I return to the bedroom the shower is running so I set his coffee on the night stand and open the curtains before settling down to sip mine. I honestly don't know where we go from here or even if there's anything else we need to say to each other. I've told him how I feel and he's told me how he doesn't and in all probability only one of us was surprised. Am I angry with him? I think so, but it's hard to put a label on how I feel, I'm all over the place like Cincinnati's sales chart. We could have kept things as they were, it wasn't me that pushed for more, I know I was an idiot to let myself get sucked back in, but even Rose thought things were different this time.

He says he _wants_ to love me and damn it, that _hurts_, because I wanted to love Jake too and look how that worked out.

The bathroom door opens and he climbs back on the bed, fully dressed but hair still darkened with water.

"Thanks." He murmurs, toasting me with his coffee.

Neither of us seems inclined to say anything so I pick up my cell and start searching for flights, I should head back to New York but I still have a few days off, maybe I could go somewhere else? Yeah, where? I have a life in New York and family here, where the hell else am I going to go? With a sigh I start booking myself on the four pm flight back to the city, I've got a couple of hours to get my shit together and catch that one.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Booking a flight home."

"Please, don't."

I stop what I'm doing and look up to find him watching me.

"You think I'm coming to Kentucky with you? Are you _insane_?"

"Yes, no, I don't know." He growls, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just, if we leave this room now, the way things are. Jesus! I am _shit_ at explaining what's going on in my head!"

"Maybe you shouldn't try. This." I indicate between us. "This worked when we didn't talk about it. And I know most women would say hands down that they'd rather have the truth but, for now at least, I'd much rather you'd kept your fucking mouth shut and just faded into the background. That I was ready for, could have handled."

"I don't even know where to start with what's wrong with that statement." He sighs. "I never meant to be such an asshole to you, ever, if I'd known . . . ."

"You'd have run away a lot sooner?"

"I am not running away from you."

"Fucking _hell_ Edward. What is the point of having a post mortem on this? You wanted us to stop whatever it was we were doing, fine, we're stopped. Let's just leave it there, everything will sort itself out eventually, it always does."

"I can't. I've been thinking about it all night, even before you told me, what you told me."

"That I love you Edward? What's there to talk about if you can't even say _that_ out loud?"

"Fine. You love me." He states, eyes boring into mine.

I look away first, suddenly finding my own almost empty coffee mug extremely interesting.

"You love me." He says more gently. "And I don't know how I feel. I have the emotional intelligence of a gnat, we know this. But, please, let me try and explain what I _do_ know. Please, I don't see how it can make this any worse."

"You wouldn't." I snap.

"Obviously not." He huffs in frustration.

We shouldn't do this, it's just turning hurt into anger and anger into something that we all end up suffering from. He was right about that last night, there's too much to lose. The silence stretches out and when I've exhausted the distractive properties of my mug I force myself to look at him again. Of course he's waiting for me, we might be useless at communicating but that doesn't mean we don't _know_ each other. There's a painful irony in there somewhere. And I _know_ that set of his jaw. Determination in the face of avoidance.

"You are a selfish asshole. What about what I want? What good is 'Explanation 2.0' going to do me? I've got no axe to grind about the past but this last couple of months, you were _that_ Suaveward, you led me on and then you dropped me on my ass. Who says I even give a _shit_ about what's going on in your head right now!"

"I guess I deserve that."

"You guess, you mean you aren't sure?" I sneer.

"I'm trying to make this right! What do you want from me, blood?"

The anger hisses out of me like air from a punctured tire.

"I want last night not to have happened." I admit truthfully, letting the sad wash back over me. "I want not to have to deal with this, feel like this."

"I can't take back what I said Bella, or how badly I said it. And I can't take back how I've behaved. But I _can_ take a risk and give you what's in my head, all of it, no matter how much it fucking scares me."

"What do you have to be scared of?" Without the anger that sounds petulant, but it's still a valid question and so I have no shame in asking it.

"Losing you completely."

"Then surely it's safer to say nothing?"

"We did _safe_ Bella." He says gesturing around the room. "And look where it got us."


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 21 A Principle Carrier of Meaning**

**BPOV**

Did you know that quicksand is not actually deadly and is never going to swallow you whole? But it does hang onto you tighter if you struggle. So I stopped struggling and let him talk.

I might have childishly thought that I wouldn't listen, but of course I did.

And when he was done we sat silently in the darkening room until he plucked up the courage to ask me what I wanted to happen next.

He'd already told me what he wanted.

So here I am, back in my apartment.

Alone in the dark.

Thinking.

Rose was right, he and I were _never_ just friends . . . .

...

He met Tanya through work, her practice specialises in legal stuff around the racing and breeding thoroughbreds and they quite often interacted with Edward's veterinary practice. Of course he'd been attracted to her, she was beautiful, intelligent and she shared his passion for 'The Sport of Kings' and so it wasn't surprising they'd hooked up a few times. He'd thought she was nice enough though she didn't have much of a sense of humour and generally concerned herself more with 'status' than he ever gave much thought to.

Which of course he wouldn't. Alice, Emmett and Edward are what used to be called Trust Fund Babies and the fact that they work and aren't total wasters is a testament to the parenting powers of Ma and Pa Cullen.

I've always known that Edward was a chronic over thinker, just not always what he was over thinking.

I'd assumed that he wouldn't notice that I'd given him up after Rose and Em's wedding, especially when New York happened so soon after, but it turns out I was wrong. He had noticed and he'd missed me, but it hadn't occurred to him to tell me that because that's what happens, friends drift away from each other after college when the adult world finally claims them. And it wasn't like he'd lost me completely, we still saw each other, were still the same with each other, albeit without the 'benefits' I'd withdrawn.

And he'd gone on with his life, finishing his studies, building his career. Content with everything he had.

Until I met Jake.

He knew he wasn't entitled to be jealous so he made a conscious effort not to be on the few occasions we were all together, and when we weren't he went about enjoying the fruits of his years of labour.

But he did start wondering if there _was_ actually something wrong with him. He'd hardly led a sheltered life, he'd met more woman than some people had had hot dinners. Why then hadn't he ever been tempted to see more of one than her lady parts? It wasn't like he couldn't build a relationship with a woman, by then he had several female friends, like Jane and Leah, fellow vets at the practice.

And then his Mom told him I was moving in with Jake.

He admitted that it upset him but he put that down to the realisation that he was suddenly the odd one out, a family of loving couples and Edward. The only one who hadn't grown up? Or the defective one, as he'd once been accused? It wasn't like he'd grown up in an environment without love and the rest of us made it look so easy. What if he was over thinking it, making it harder than it needed to be? Relationships start with two people who like each other, are attracted to each other, getting to know one another. They don't always result in the lasting love that his Mom and Dad have, Alice for example had had quite a few false starts before she met Jasper, but the fact was she _started_.

So when Tanya invited him to a function at her practice as her plus one he didn't give in to his instinct to say no, he went. And they had a good time. And he wasn't worried when she subsequently asked him if he'd mind escorting her to a family birthday celebration. Or when she'd suggested they attend a Race Day together. And he'd been enormously pleased with himself when he asked her out to dinner for the first time.

He said he knew it wasn't the romance of the century but that I'd once told him that was all bullshit anyway. He liked her, enjoyed the dates they shared once or twice a week and wasn't bothered by her emotional and physical distance. With hindsight he said that it was hardly surprising they got on so well, they impinged so little on each other's lives. But everyone seemed to accept them, find them normal. So perhaps they were.

I was shocked when he told me that Tanya was the one who broached the subject of marriage. Those are some cojones she's hiding under those pencil skirts. He said the idea hadn't horrified him per se but neither had he thought 'damn what a good idea, this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with'. She hadn't pushed him but she hadn't let the subject completely drop either, pointing out how neatly their lives fit and how easy it would be for them to take that extra step and 'fit' with everyone else.

That made me a little nauseous to be honest, still is. I've spent years avoiding revealing my feelings to him, and as stupid as it is, feels, felt, it's like she just waltzed in and stole him out from under my nose because I wasn't paying attention.

In the end he did ask her to marry him, soon after the weekend when he'd introduced her to the family, because it had been just as easy as everything else between them.

I know Edward is an intelligent man, the owner of a keen, if clinical, analytical mind, but I just gaped at him when he told me that. Because, really, what a fucking idiot. Yet I'm beginning to see how he could 'think' himself into that situation, it is very like Edward to miss the wood for all the trees. Of course Tanya didn't waste any time and it brings a wry smile to face to know that he was so clueless he didn't realise that to bring everything together as quickly as she did she had to have been just waiting for him to come round to her way of thinking. She's a shrewd operator I'll give her that, she never once told him she loved him, asked if he loved her or tried to encroach on his space. And I wonder if, with all that, she'd also realised that once he'd married her she would have had him for life. Edward's been in more vaginas than Tampax but at heart he's a decent man with a highly developed sense of responsibility, that's why he's so easy to fall in love with.

And that's why we're in this mess.

He'd been attracted to me from the first time he saw me, but I was his brother's girlfriend's friend and as he so nicely put it, you don't shit on your own doorstep. He didn't set out to be an asshole in college, he'd had girlfriends in High School, but he had a plan, a goal, and a relationship like Em and Rose's was just going to get in the way of the years of studying he had ahead of him. Besides he was a normal, albeit gorgeous, guy and he wanted to have a little fun.

But he admitted he always struggled with the line between friendship and attraction with me and though I'd never realised at the time there were many periods in college when I was the only girl in his life. And he'd be happy. And then he'd get scared and he'd back off. Back off because a relationship in college wasn't part of his plan. Back off because I never once gave him any sign that I thought of him as more than a close friend I'd hook up with occasionally. And back off because he did care for me and didn't want to hurt me, as he was always being told he would, or fuck up our friendship.

That last part I could identify with, that's why I never gave him any sign I cared for him beyond a close friend, because having him in my life in any capacity was better than nothing at all.

I never tried to analyse Edward, or his motivations, I'd made my mind up about who and what he was early on and I wasn't going to drive myself mad over thinking everything like the other girls did. But as I look back on it now, with his words, I find myself mourning a relationship I didn't know I'd had. Would I have said anything, shown anything of what was really in my head to him, if I'd noticed any of the signs? Would I have taken that risk? Even though I loved him? I honestly don't know.

So really, he's not the only fucking idiot here.

He couldn't pinpoint when his impending nuptials started looking more like an approaching freight train than a sensible well thought out idea. But he said the train hit him at the airport, when he saw me. No angels didn't sing and the clouds didn't part suddenly bathing me a shaft of heavenly light. He realised he had one relationship he could compare his burgeoning unease to. Ours.

She didn't make him laugh. She didn't stimulate his mind. He didn't know what music she really liked, what books she read, or even if she really liked either at all. She was a snob. It wasn't easy with her at all, it never had been, it had always been him being and doing what he thought she wanted. He wasn't compelled to be touching her all the time. He didn't miss her when she wasn't around. She didn't provoke any kind of physical response in him unless she touched him first. He wasn't jealous when someone hit on her. She wasn't as beautiful to him as me, she didn't make his blood pound in his ears, his heart race in anticipation. She didn't drive him _crazy_.

And then he realised that he _would_ be giving something up if he married her.

Me.

Us.

Asshole made me cry again.

A lot.

He admitted he'd had no idea what to do with this newly acquired knowledge, other than pull out of the wedding, until I rocked up in Louisville. We'd been so easy in a completely different way, such a better way, that it had been all he could think about afterwards. And he'd agonised over whether or not to tell me he was coming to New York. Because he didn't know what I wanted. Didn't know what he wanted. And because Tanya's last words to him were ringing in his head.

But in the end his desire to see me, be with me, won out over his head.

And again when he invited me to the Ball.

And again. And again.

Until he'd become increasingly desperate for a sign from me that I was in whatever this was with him too.

But he hadn't noticed that he'd stopped _thinking_ about what he was doing until Em called him on it, made him _see_ that history might be repeating itself, made him see what he risked losing . . . .

...

All of this should be a poignant introduction to our future together as friends and thwarted lovers, and in time it probably will be.

But there are two things holding me in my tangle of melancholy thoughts.

Tanya's last words to him;

"You're not defective Edward, you're in denial. You're not incapable of loving anyone, just incapable of loving anyone but Bella Swan. The only thing I can say to excuse my selfish love for you is that it never once occurred to me that you didn't know that. I thought we could build a life together, that I could make you happy with what you _could _have because she wouldn't give you anything else."

And that I was the one who planted the seed in his head that he was defective, accused him of it. I remember that night at Netta's, it was the end of our first semester of college and Rose and Em had snuck off somewhere to do the horizontal mambo, leaving Edward and I to drink ourselves insensible. But I don't remember that conversation, the damning words I said, even though Edward did.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 22 Ticket**

**BPOV**

Thinking is very much overrated. And it gives you a bit of a headache. Or maybe that's just being shut up in my apartment thanks to Trevisano and his stalkery radicchio ways.

By Sunday night I was literally climbing the suede accent walls and so I caved and texted Demetri to see if he was available to take me into work on Monday.

He was and I apologised profusely but he brushed me off and said that his nephews were more interested in video games than him these days, not to mention he was about ready for a break from his sister.

I spoke to Rose, reassuring her that I was fine.

And I spoke to Esme, who didn't press for details but just wanted to let me know she loved me, which made me cry.

Again.

When I was done I grabbed a beer and went to my study to what I always do.

Work.

...

I fancy I could hear the collective howls of anguish when I stepped off the elevator on Monday morning and I felt a little bad, but I wasn't intending to bother anybody, just toil away in my office and maybe catch-up on the sleep I've missed the last couple of nights.

I'd imagined one of the comfortable couches for that but when Demetri came in at eleven thirty to see if I wanted to continue our new lunch habit he found me face down on the laptop. He didn't laugh, but his lips twitched and when I looked in the mirror as I freshened up, sure enough I had keyboard indentations in my cheek.

Oh well.

We went for hotdogs and found some steps to sit on while we ate.

"How as Thanksgiving?" I asked him when we'd done eating and switched to people watching.

"Good. It's a good holiday. My sister cooks the dinner just like Mom used to."

I nod, smiling ruefully, I cook just like Renee used to, badly.

"I thought you were going to Kentucky with your boyfriend." He says after a long pause.

"He's not my . . . ." I stop with a sigh. "It's complicated."

"It always is." He drawls, still scanning the crowds flowing past us.

"Have you ever been in love?" I ask him impetuously and he turns to me with one eyebrow raised, clearly conveying the 'you did not just ask me that' that's running through his head.

"Sorry." I mutter, looking away to hide my embarrassment.

His answer catches me by surprise.

"Once or twice."

Now it's my turn to raise an eyebrow and he snorts in amusement.

"I met a local girl while I was stationed overseas. Her parents didn't approve. My friends didn't approve. She said she didn't care but I spent so long over thinking the rights and wrongs of it that I got posted back home before I got my head out of my ass."

He chuckles darkly.

"Of course that's when I finally realised I was in love with her."

"What happened?"

"We kept in touch. I went back for her when I could, the army doesn't give compassionate leave for being a fuckwit. And we tried, but . . . . I don't think she felt she could trust me, or my feelings, so in the end she decided to be safe not sorry, and I came back without her."

"That's . . . ." I flounder.

"That's what happens." He drawls.

"Twice?" I ask after a long silence and he grunts before answering.

"This one's a work in progress."

"Um?" I ask hesitantly and he laughs.

"Now you turn into a normal woman, wanting all the ins and outs of someone else's love life."

"Sorry." I offer again. "Ignore me."

"We're working on it. It's complicated." He sighs, straightening out his long legs. "She's a lot younger than me."

"Oh, ah, um. Rose wouldn't be surprised, she thinks you're hot."

"No shit." He snorts with amusement before looking contemplative. "Her parents don't approve, so no change there, but she isn't sure either."

"Do you love her?"

"Jesus H Christ Bella." He groans. "Yes I love her."

"Does she know?"

"She knows. But she's not sure she loves me. Or if she loves me enough."

I bark out a laugh and he frowns at me.

"No, sorry, laughing with you not at you." I explain quickly. "I can completely empathise after the weekend I've just had."

He studies me intently for a moment and then nods slowly.

"Why do you, um, aren't you taking a really big risk?"

"Like being offered a free ticket on the Titanic's maiden voyage?" He asks.

"Yes." I nod. "Exactly like that."

"Life's nothing without a little risk Bella." He shrugs. "And she's worth it. I can't change the way I feel about her, I can only hope that given time she'll realise she feels the same way about me."

"And if she doesn't?"

He's silent for a while, contemplating the crowds and his coffee.

"Come on." He says, gliding to his feet and offering me his hand. "You've been recognised, time to get you back to your ivory tower."

...

My ivory tower is quiet, those people that are in are mostly still at lunch and with Lauren off there isn't the usual traffic outside my office.

Good, I can get a head start on all the crap that comes with the financial year end . . . .

I beaver away for a solid four hours, until my eyes are scratchy and tired and the pads of my fingers are actually stinging from all the typing and I'm about to pack up for the day when an incoming email catches my eye.

Laurent Henri-Delattre.

_Subject: Communication_

_My Dear Bella_

_I was so sorry to learn that you were unable to travel to Kentucky to meet Midnight Sun and I do hope that everything is well with you?_

_I am of course still very keen for you to meet the colt, I feel you and he are a perfect match for each other._

_Perhaps you will be able to visit with us before Christmas?_

_If you can I shall very much look forward to it._

_Kindest Regards_

_Laurent_

I re-read it a couple of times and then close the email, picking up my cell to call Demetri so he can take me home.

...

I'm running low on supplies that aren't beer which seems like an excellent excuse to order take out.

While I wait for my pizza to arrive I get my study set up for a night with my nose to the grindstone, flicking my eyes down the page full of unread emails that have collected since I left the office. Mostly from people who are actually on vacation but have received an email from me today and jumped on it.

That sucks. I'm not that fucking scary, surely?

And what's wrong with these people, they all have families, lives. Haven't they got better things to do?

Do I have to get the IT Department to shut their fucking email down when they're on vacation? They're all encouraged to make sure their Departments run without them, it's one of our management fundamentals, if you're the only one that can take care of it then you're a problem, a risk to Cask.

Leadership by example The Old Man used to say.

And guess who works _all_ the time?

I grab the last slice of pizza and fold it so it's easier to cram in my mouth, no one's here to judge me, and my eyes drift to the photograph on the wall opposite my desk. I've barely really looked at it since Rose and I hung it when Jake and I moved in. The picture is of the four of us, Rose, Em, Edward and me, taken on some random and long forgotten night out. You can tell we've been drinking, we're flushed and laughing, our arms wound round each other. I can't even remember who took it but I had it framed because it was one of those pictures that actually made it look like Edward . . . .

Jake hated it, which is why it ended up in my study.

Ah fuck . . . .

I text Demetri.

'Not going into the office tomorrow but I do need groceries if that's okay?'

'What time?'

'11?'

'Fine, I'll come to the door.'

'Okay, thanks.'

My cell chimes again.

Aro.

'I know you're back. The party season cometh . .'

'Wednesday'

'Office?'

'Okay'

'You will look fabulous!'

'Thanks A'

'Its what I do.'

Another chime.

Alice.

'Christmas gift for olds. Have secured the must have photographer. NYC. Family group. Can I count on you?'

'Do I have to dress up?'

'No. Natural is the way to go at the moment. If you don't look like bag lady will make you x'

'Refreshing change x'

'Hold that thought, I see next year being very different. Will text you deets. Love you. Ali x'

'Love you too x'

I wait, pathetically, for an age. But no one else texts me. So I put myself to bed.

...

I swear to god someone's been messing with this treadmill, three miles has _never_ felt so far.

Relieved and rubbery of leg I finally stumble off it and into the shower.

And when I'm done its eight am and I'm wide awake.

Okay, what now?

I wander into the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, and inspecting the refrigerator twice.

Nothing. Nada. Zip. Not even a stray coffee bean to lick.

In the living room I am reminded that it's like nobody lives here. Even if I make a mess my housekeeper tidies it away and I'm not really a messy person. Even my closet could be from a show home, neat racks and shelves of co-ordinated suits, blouses, dresses, jeans and t-shirts. Rows of shoes, boots and ludicrously expensive sneakers.

The child in me wants to mess it up on purpose.

The grown up just growls at a couple of shoe boxes and tips over a pile of workout clothes.

Eventually Demetri arrives to rescue me.

...

Hours later I settle down with a TV dinner and the long list of engagements Lauren had previously sent me for December.

Jesus.

Work all day. Work all night.

Costume balls. Plain old black tie balls. Cutting edge contemporary get-togethers. Parties. Dinners. Launches. Red carpets.

I feel tired just looking at it and I'm seriously tempted to only go to the ones that impact on Cask and nothing else, even though that's still at least two a week between now and Christmas. But I have at least one other person to consider before I ask Lauren to take shears to the schedule.

I text Rose.

'Wanna do any of the NY party scene?'

'What's good this year? I still need to finish my seasonal shopping and I need a kick ass dress for New Year.'

'I'll email you the list, see what you fancy, ask Ali too if she's free.'

'She'll explode.'

'Plenty of time to clean her up for the Cullen New Year x'

'I take it you're not staying home for that?'

'I never do'

'Not that I'm trying to entice you away from the lavish parties you normally go to but will you think about it this year?'

'Sure.'

'Cool. Love you x'

'Love you too x'

My laptop dings and I glance at the screen automatically.

Edward A Cullen.

My heart stops beating for a moment and then struggles back to life as I click to open the message.

_Subject: Photograph_

_Hi Bella_

_Alice says you're on for the Christmas gift this year._

_Ma and Pa will love it._

_I'm looking forward to seeing you and I hope we get a chance to spend some time together._

_Edward_

Oh god . . . .

...

Aro, bless his black heart, waits till all of ten am before he descends on me with four racks of dresses and _both_ his assistants.

I am in hell . . . .

Assistants and dress racks have departed when he flops down on one of the couches and I turn back to my work.

"So, dates for all these events?" He asks.

"There won't be any."

"Not even the fine specimen of Veterinarian?"

"Not even him."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Oh well." He sighs. "At least I'll be spared having to co-ordinate accessories this year. Heterosexual men really do struggle with my vision, even darling Jacob."

"Humph."

"You know he's home till after New Years?"

"No. I didn't know that and I'm not going to ask how you do."

"My sources are my secrets."

"Humph."

"You're bound to run into him."

I scowl at him over the lid of my laptop and he laughs.

...

I potter around the apartment making myself busy doing nothing, my mind worrying at the problem of how to respond to Edward's email. I know this is ridiculous but for some reason what I write back has taken on some sort of mind freezing, breath stealing, importance.

His own words were safe enough, his hoping we could spend time together ambiguous and probably triggered by the fact that Alice's gift idea was going to throw us together when I'd specifically asked him for space and time. In my head I'd seen Christmas as the time by which we'd need to have spoken to each other, now I was looking at a little over a week.

I don't like feeling so conflicted about him and for the millionth time I wish that either he or Em had kept their mouths shut and let sleeping dogs lie. It's good to talk and I realise now that we've started it would pretty much be the end of everything if we don't keep doing it, but, shit it's_hard_. And now that there's a little distance from the emotional weekend in question I feel all kinds of monumental stupid, for what I said, how I reacted, not to mention our past . . . .

But this isn't about our past. I was always at peace with how I thought it was and I can mentally slap the back of my head for how obtuse I was.

This is about our future and though I'm not sure I'm ready to take a risk on the ticket at least I've balls enough to be honest.

_Subject: Re: Photograph_

_Hi Edward_

_It's one of Alice's better ideas I think, though I hope the poor photographer knows what he or she is in for._

_I am nervous about seeing you to be honest but perhaps we'll be able to spend some time together._

_Bella_


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 23 Awkward**

**BPOV**

The organisational powerhouse that is M. Alice Whitlock did not send me a text, she sent me an email, with a spreadsheet and a word document to explain the color coding in the spreadsheet. Her email said this was more efficient. The only hard data I could glean from it was that they would arrive on Friday evening and we would be photographed on Monday, with at least two 'hip and happening' parties scheduled in between.

I have known Alice for years so after I'd frowned at if for a while I forwarded it Lauren, with a guilty apology, asking her to co-ordinate directly with Alice when she was back from her vacation.

And then I got on with some work.

Edward's reply came in while I was pouring myself my umpteenth cup of coffee.

_Subject: Re: Re: Photograph_

_Bella_

_I wish, I really wish, that I had never said or done anything to make you nervous. That's, so far away from what I wanted, but I understand it and I'm nervous too._

_Nevertheless in the spirit of honesty I would much rather see you than not see you._

_I have to ask if its okay for me to stay at the apartment too, Alice just assumed it in her plan but I'm not sure how much this contravenes the time and space you asked for._

_Edward_

I'm not sure how to answer that, although I think it's pretty obvious that it's okay because it hadn't occurred to me that he wouldn't stay with the rest of us. And maybe it will better and less awkward to get seeing him out of the way quickly before I can build it up into some massive issue? But I'm guessing that's slightly more honest than I should put in an email?

I close my eyes for a moment willing away the urge to kick Edward's ass, and Em's, and then I hit reply.

_Subject: Time & Space_

_Is relative I'm told._

_I don't want us to be awkward._

_Bella_

He doesn't respond and I guess that he hasn't got the brass neck to assure me that everything's going to be fine.

...

The traffic tonight is appalling and I end up going through my emails as Demetri drives and Edward's name leaps out at me.

_Subject: Awkward_

_I have written and re-written this a thousand times but I think the crux of what I want to say is that I don't want us to be awkward either and I will do anything I can to prevent that happening._

_I made this situation between us and you already know how sorry I am for it, and I hope, how much it isn't what I wanted. _

_It isn't your responsibility to fix this, it's mine, and next weekend I will follow your lead on how you want me to behave but I do still hope, very much, that we'll get a chance to talk._

_Edward_

_x_

...

Over the course of the week I worked hard to clear my desk so that I could enjoy having my 'family' in New York and I was relieved that I was excited enough about that not to get myself into a state worrying about seeing Edward.

Not that I didn't think about him, and often.

It might have helped that Aro's army of beautification engineers were all over me like the proverbial rash all week, getting me to my peak for the party season. Feel like a finely tuned race horse much? When I wasn't excited I was annoyed and when I wasn't excited or annoyed I was asleep. It didn't leave much time for worrying.

And then suddenly it was too late, Demetri dropped me home early to do the airport run but Felix called with a massive problem at work and before I knew it Demetri was calling to let me know he was pulling up downstairs.

Fuck.

Okay.

I feel sick.

Whatever.

I yank the door open to wait for the elevator.

The first face I see is Demetri's, stoic as he marshals a mountain of luggage that can only belong to Alice and then she's broken free of Jasper's restraining arms and launched herself at me, talking nineteen to the dozen and it's all so normal I don't even fully register that Edward's here until it's his turn to hug me.

He squeezes me a little tighter and holds me a little longer than anyone else does and I find that I don't mind that at all.

...

Within an hour Char and Pete arrive and within two my 'unlived in' apartment is in the best state of chaos. Talking, laughing, loud music, random dancing, Jasper and Peter yelling as they play Call of Duty, Flaming Sambucas setting off the smoke detectors, half eaten plates of catered food on every flat surface. Seriously, only the eight of us could create this much mayhem in such a short space of time . . . .

...

After trying to play Twister and deciding we're too old we end up sprawled around the living room while Rose starts rolling joints and Alice searches for a movie.

I'm so drunk the conversation recedes to a low hum around me and I'm not the only one, a similarly slack smile is on Char's face as our eyes meet . . . .

When I wake up I'm in my bed, fully clothed, its pitch black and the apartment is silent.

My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, yuk.

Still drunk I climb out of bed and stagger into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Ugh, I need water . . . .

In the dark of the kitchen I blunder into a warm body.

"Sorry." Edward says, steadying me. "I needed hydration in the worst possible way."

"Me too." I groan, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with fresh cool nectar and taking a big gulp. "You okay on the couch?"

"I am now I've evicted all the leftover food." He chuckles.

I can just about make him out now, a dark familiar shape illuminated in part by the clock on the oven.

"Alice's itinerary says we have to get up in three hours." He sighs.

"Yeah, that's gonna suck."

"We'd better get back to bed." He suggests.

"Night Edward."

"Night Bella."

His hand briefly alights on my arm and I pat it gently before I pull myself away.

...

This morning does indeed suck.

My head feels like it's going to split open as Jasper, Edward and I trail after the super humans that are the Cullens and Rose.

"There is no mercy." Jasper groans. "My brother was smart to start a family they're protection from _this_ infernal family."

"He probably feels like crap too." Edward points out.

"Yeah, but I bet he's lying on his fuck awesome couch while he does it."

Edward and I nod, as much as we're able, and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Alice takes pity on us at lunchtime and directs us to a fashionable diner.

I say fashionable because it looks like a diner but sells the kind of food that is _not_ going to help with my hangover.

"Edward." I hiss as we wait our turn to slide into the booth. "I need grease."

"Jazz." He whispers, snagging Jasper's jacket. "Wait a sec . . . ."

"Alice." I raise my voice. "I'll be back in a minute. I need some fresh air."

Edward snickers and pokes me in the back. Yeah, I know we've been in the 'fresh air' for hours now.

"I'll go with her." He says.

"Me too." Jasper mutters and I don't wait for anyone to call us on it, turning and hurrying back to the door.

"Where are we going?" Jasper asks as the bell stops jangling behind us.

"Burger stand one block over, we can do it if we hurry . . . ."

I'm pretty sure we look like extras from 'Warm Bodies' as we shamble down the street, but I don't care, an overpriced salad is _not_ going to cure what ails me.

...

The afternoon is much better and I gradually turn back into a human being again.

...

Tonight's party is about as hip as it can get and I'm grateful for Aro as I pull on the outfit he's prepared for me and fool around with Alice and Rose getting ready.

"Wow." Alice breathes as we survey ourselves in front of my full length mirror. "We really grew up."

"Yeah." Rose sighs, toasting our reflections with her glass of wine. "It's all downhill from here."

"Please." Alice huffs. "Fifty is the new forty and we've got fucking _ages_ yet. Don't wish your life away."

"Depressing." I point out. "I'm on the cusp of spinsterhood."

"Cyggers, you're slow, not retarded." Rose drawls. "And you've always been strong in the finishing straight."

"And you're already technically a spinster." Alice adds.

I brandish my middle finger at her in the mirror and we all laugh.

"Okay." She squeals. "We look hot, let's grab our lucky men folk and paint this town red!"

...

This is one of those parties that has a red carpet and I hang back with a smile as Alice tells everyone who we are and what we're wearing and Rose towers over her glowering at the flashing cameras. I know this will get speculated about endlessly in the press but I don't begrudge Alice her moment in the limelight, she loves this shit.

Eventually we move into the club, coupling up so that I end up with Edward's hand hovering around my back and on my elbow. I'm acutely conscious of it, but not in a bad way.

As soon as we get drinks from the bar acquaintances claim me and I drift away from our group to work the room now so I can relax later. Nobody would believe it but this social butterfly stuff is much harder work than business relationships, in business we don't tend to care whether or not we like each other as long as everyone can play nice when they need to. Mercifully it doesn't take long and I'm on my way back to the others when I spot Jake talking to Edward at the bar.

Oh, ah, um. Awkward. My steps slow until I grind to a halt, half hidden by a pillar. They're smiling but there's nothing friendly about their body language, tight is the word I'd use to describe it. I have no idea what they're saying but after a moment Jake shakes his head , walking away, and Edward turns back to the bar. I'm still standing there like an idiot moments later when Alice and Rose take an arm each propelling me onto the dance floor with them.

I don't know how long we danced but eventually we made it back to the table the guys had staked out, flushed, laughing and in desperate need of liquid refreshment.

"Ew, sweaty." Jasper objects when Alice lands in his lap and plants a smacker on his lips.

"Thanks." I murmur to Edward who hands me a tall drink and laughs when I down it in several long gulps.

"Ladies!" Rose whisper yells when she's downed hers. "To the restroom!"

We haul Alice out of Jasper's lap and set off, laughing, I'm going to have a sore stomach tomorrow to go with my hangover. Hey ho . . . .

We're almost back to the table when Jake appears out of nowhere, Rose pauses but I smile to let her know it's okay for them to leave me, I'm sort of prepared for this. Sort of. I'm surprised to find that his dark beauty doesn't cloud my senses anymore, instead I just feel the eleven kinds of guilty I _should_ have felt when we were together.

"You're home." I acknowledge, somewhat stupidly given the circumstances.

"Just for a couple of weeks."

"How's London?"

"Awesome when I'm actually there." He laughs.

"Right. Sorry. I still watch all your stuff."

His smile fades and so does mine.

Awkward.

"I still read all yours." He confesses. "So you and Eddie are an item now?"

"We're not, you know not to believe all that crap . . . ."

"Doesn't look like it." He murmurs, turning our bodies slightly.

Edward is staring at us, that familiar expression on his face, the one I couldn't place in Kentucky.

"He's jealous." I breathe.

"Yep." Jake laughs. "I reckon I know the acidic churning that's going on in his stomach right now."

"Jake, I . . . ."

"You're sorry. I know that Babe. I'm shit at advice and I don't know what's going on with you two but the selfish prick in me hopes that it works out so my suffering means something."

"Jake . . . ."

"You love him and he loves you. From where I'm standing that's simple and sweet Babe. I still think he's a total douche bag but he's _your_ total douche bag and he always has been. If he's what you want don't talk yourself out of it now."

"I'm a terrible person." I groan.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "You really are. But come dance with me anyway, he can suffer a few minutes longer."

...

It takes a while but with the inevitability of death and taxes I eventually find myself alone at the table with Edward.

And it's as awkward as fuck because he's right there and I can't climb into his lap and seek comfort in his warmth.

He said he wanted us to try, really try, to be together. And though the consequences of it not working out terrify me I haven't been able to imagine _not_ trying. Which says it all I suppose.

"So, Jacob's here." He says.

"Yes."

"I wanted to come over and split you up." He confesses, frowning down at his drink. "But I don't have the right."

"Maybe, if you still want to, you can earn the right?"

Green eyes flash up to meet mine and their intensity takes my breath away.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 24 Turbulence**

**BPOV**

Dutch courage to admit what you want is one thing but actually doing it is quite another.

Fortunately the natural comedian that is Em rescues me before Edward can utter a word, carrying me off to the dance floor caveman style.

It's not until we're in a cab on the way home that the reality of the situation dawns on me, I can't put a finger on what I'm freaking out about exactly but I am positively vibrating with freak. And it both helps and doesn't help when Edward quietly takes my hand and calmly runs his thumb over the back of it.

When he told me, in Rose's guest room that night, that he wanted to try I was flabbergasted, in less than twenty four hours he'd gone there from 'I think we should stop'. His reasoning could have been described as logical but all I could see was a fast ride to a broken heart. And I wasn't getting on board for that so I did the only thing I could think of, I asked for time. I didn't think I'd give it any serious thought, after all I'm not noted for being a crazy person.

But I did.

And I can't entirely blame Rose and her 'I think he actually does love you' crap. Because I'm not entirely convinced she's wrong. Or at least I don't want to be entirely convinced that she's wrong.

Oh fuck . . . .

It's not very romantic but if I view Edward's words as a business pitch they do make sense.

We're friends. We care about each other. We can't keep out hands off each other. If we talk, which we've proved we can do, we might be able to make this work, we might be able to make each other happy. And if we can't then we're big enough to stay friends.

Win, win.

A fresh start he said. No different to any other couple that meet and are attracted to each other, they don't know how it's going to end either.

I know I want you he said. And I know I don't want anybody else, he said. I just don't know what that means, he said.

...

Sunday morning is a long lazy breakfast, cooked by Alice and Rose, much to the relief of my guests.

I'd been at a fever pitch of freak when we got in last night but Edward had simply pressed a kiss to my forehead and made a big show of clearing everyone and everything off the couch so he could go to bed. Considerate of him I'd acknowledged, nevertheless feeling wistful as I'd made my own way to bed.

Right now we're all lounging around in the 'culinary space' drinking coffee and fighting good naturedly over the newspaper sections. But there's a doom hanging over our heads. Serious shopping. Both Alice and Rose want New Year's dresses. I'm not much of a shopper, never having had the money when I was younger and having had an Aro for several years since. On this I am apparently a traitor to my sex because I join in with the whining from Edward, Em and Jasper.

Not that it does any of us any good at all, on the stroke of noon Alice is ushering us out the door with Rose's motivated assistance.

Edward and I stroll along at the back, silent and awkward again until he takes my hand.

"What's this party tonight?" He asks.

"Some women's magazine."

"Hmm."

"It was voted the best last year and its sales are streets ahead of any other at the moment."

"Hmm. What time's the photographer tomorrow?"

"Two I think."

"Will you have lunch with me first?"

"Okay."

He squeezes my hand and we stroll on in silence.

...

The party was actually quite good and though we didn't get a chance to talk Edward and I managed to exchange more than a few words, jokes and smiles. Especially when Alice cut both us and Jasper off at two drinks warning that she didn't want our inability to hold our drink ruining the photographs. How well she knows us.

...

I didn't think she'd give me any trouble about changing her schedule to have lunch alone with her brother but I could have done without the squealing, I was fucking nervous enough already.

And I could have done without the fuckers all waving us out the door like a couple of teenagers going on their first date.

But shit if that wasn't just how I was feeling . . . .

"Bella." Edward murmurs taking my hand as we descend in the elevator. "We're going to eat lunch, we're grown-ups, we do it all the time."

"Okay."

"Okay."

...

"This place is great." I observe once we're seated. "How did you find it?"

"I cheated." He chuckles, going a bit pink.

"Cheated?"

"I asked Demetri." He admits. "His girlfriend works here."

"Ah."

"Ah?"

"Ah. I knew he had a girlfriend but not that she worked here. I wonder which one she is?"

"I have no idea." Edward shrugs. "Demetri and I aren't close enough to share that kind of information. Although . . . ."

"Although?"

"Although he did express the hope that I was in possession of a seriously big shovel and a genuine desire to use it. What did you tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm." He observes, perusing the menu. "He's protective of you."

"It's his job." My turn to shrug.

"You pay him to put the fear of God into potential boyfriends?" Edward asks with a smile.

"From time to time." I drawl as the waitress returns to take our orders. "But you'd have been a freebie."

Edward laughs and we both order steak.

Conversation is light while we eat but I can feel it coming, like an ominous storm, the heavy stuff.

"So." Edward says when our plates been cleared and coffees poured.

"So." I respond, fighting the urge to fidget or flee.

"Bella, I know you really hate talking about this stuff, I do too. But it's important."

"I know that." I sigh. "But I'm entirely blaming _you_ for it being necessary."

"That's fair enough. And I'm sorry. But, I, we . . . ." He smiles ruefully. "You're right, this is really fucking hard."

I smile to myself, somewhat mollified by his epic lack of suaveness until he reaches across the table and takes my hand gently in both of his, eyes becoming dark and serious.

Oh fuck . . . .

"Did you mean what you said?" He asks. "About giving us a chance?"

I'd really love to remind him that wasn't exactly what I said but I can't because that was exactly what I _meant_.

"I'm scared." I admit.

"So am I."

"That's not very reassuring." I point out, trying to pull my hand away but failing miserably.

"I think it's okay to be scared." He murmurs. "This is new, to both of us. I'm not asking for . . . . I just want us to start again, and see, like everyone else does. And I really believe, hope, that if we're honest with each other, we can work out whatever we need to as we go along."

"You mean the epic failure 'how can we stay friends now' part?" I can't help asking.

"And if we're there already?"

"I don't hate you yet." I inform him, going for his weak spot. That was his fear, that if we didn't work out as a couple he'd lose me completely, because it would prove once and for all that he's defective, not good enough for me.

"I could never hate _you_." He counters, recognising what I'm doing.

"You could Edward, Jake did, in the end."

"That's not the same and it's not true." He growls quietly. "We aren't going to treat each other like that. And he doesn't hate you, he's on the list of people that cares about you enough to have vowed to kick my ass if I fuck this up."

"And yet you still want to do it?"

"Yes."

Oh fuck . . . .

"We live in different states. We have busy lives. Careers. Our family . . . ."

"Yes." He states again. "We do. We have. I still want to do it. Do you?"

Oh fuck . . . .

"I might do."

He smiles.

"_Edward_." I warn.

"Bella." He chuckles. "We're late, Alice is going to kill us."

...

Edward settles the check and we hustle outside to hail a cab which deposits us at the photographer's studio before I have a chance to collect my scattered wits.

Through the glass doors we can see Alice talking animatedly to a rather frightened looking young man but Edward pulls me to a stop as I move to push the doors open.

"Bella, will you have dinner with me on Christmas Eve?"

"Esme's Open House?" I gasp.

"I'm hoping, though I've never tested it, that the 'open' part is the key." He chuckles. "We can go out to dinner and then come back."

"To Esteban's?"

"To Esteban's."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The outer door opens with a blast of cold air and Char and Pete hurry in with the babies.

"You're late." Edward observes, nodding his head at Alice through the doors.

"So are you." Char fires back, as sharp as ever.

"United front?" Pete suggests.

Laughing I push the glass doors open to a welcome wave of heat.

...

I can't go the airport with them because I have a dinner engagement for work so I bid them goodbye at the studio before Demetri collects me to take me t the office so I can change, my cheek still tingling from Edward's chaste kiss.

I hope they don't think it's strange that he's not taking them to the airport, I asked him to but he refused because of the stalkery radicchio.

...

Dinner is fruitful for Cask but the weekend has worn me out and I collapse on the bed fully clothed, too tired to worry about anything until the alarm wakes me in the morning.

...

There are flowers in my office.

Not the usual brash stuff either, Freesias, my favourites.

I pick up the card.

'Till Christmas Eve, Edward'

Oh fuck . . . .

...

Work, party, work, party, work.

It's all the same . . . .

...

"You did the right thing." Rose assures me through the phone.

"Did I?"

"He's a fuckwit, but he's your fuckwit, if you want him."

"What if he can never love me?"

"You mean what if he can never say it?"

"I don't have your faith."

"Fine Cyggers, just borrow my balls."

...

Work, party, work, party, work, work, work . . . .

...

"You want to turn them all down?" Lauren asks incredulously as I hand her the list and the tickets for New York's most sought after New Year's parties.

"All of them." I confirm.

"But what are you going to do, where are you going to go?"

"I have no idea."

She wants to ask me if I'm insane, I know she does, but she hasn't the nerve.

"You take whichever ones you want." I inform her, leaving the tickets on her desk as I head out to have walking lunch with Demetri.

...

I am still mad with Edward, and by extension Em, this situation is making me question a lot of things. Principally what I've accepted as opposed to what I've wanted. Or more specifically my lack of _thought_ about what I've wanted.

It's _uncomfortable_.

There are some obvious things, like getting off my ass first week of the New Year and getting out of my apartment and into something _I_ want. Not that I'm going to find what I want in the city which leads onto a whole host of other things that I need to think about but _can't_.

Oh fuck . . . .

...

Edward and I have texted a few times, light and friendly, and spoken once.

I don't know what to make of that as I board my plane on Christmas Eve, its felt totally normal and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. All I know is that the thought of going out to dinner with him tonight, an activity that even I can't pass off as _not_ being a date, has me in a tail spin.

Turbulence causes the plane to drop suddenly.

Shit, tail spin, _such_ a poor choice of words . . . .


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 25 Snow Date**

**BPOV**

My fellow passengers and I stumble off the plane blinking at the bright lights and snow of the airport, even the stewardesses look like they want to fall to their knees and kiss the asphalt. What a fucking flight, the guy in the seat next to me thought he was having a heart attack and I really couldn't blame him.

"Rose!" I squeal when I spot her waiting, launching myself into her arms.

"Rough flight?" She chokes, staggering under my weight.

"You have no idea."

"Did you have a come to Jesus moment?" She laughs, channelling her inner Em into the hug she gives me back.

"No, I had a change of underwear moment." I groan into her neck. "I'm clearly not that spiritual."

She was still laughing when we got to the car.

...

Esme welcomes us both with customary eggnog and Carlisle welcomes us with his customary inappropriate aplomb before he takes our bags up to our rooms.

"You're staying for New Year?" Esme asks as we settle in the kitchen.

"I'm not sure." I hedge, I have an open ticket.

"Well you know you're welcome." She assures me. "Now, who wants something to eat before the madness descends?"

...

Madness.

I haven't even seen him, I don't even know if he's here but already the house is swarming with people, some random, some not, all enjoying Ma and Pa Cullen's generous hospitality. I've always loved Christmas Eve here, I know its drink fuelled but the vibes are always so positive and happy.

"Boo." A velvet voice croons, long arms capturing me around the waist. "You ready for dinner?"

"Edward." I squeak.

"Come on." He urges, turning me easily in his arms. "Let's go . . . ."

...

"You're quiet." He observes as we turn onto the highway.

"I know." I sigh. "I'm sorry, this just feels _different_."

"It does doesn't it?" He responds, taking my hand in his and resting them together on the centre console of Carlisle's Mercedes.

I want to know if he thinks different good or different bad but I won't ask in case he expects an answer to the same question. I couldn't right now, I'm perfectly comfortable with our hands twined together but there's something seriously weird going on in my stomach.

Instead of thinking about it I let my attention be absorbed by the fresh snow that's begun to fall . . . .

...

I have serious love for Esteban's and the man himself, who greets us effusively, taking our heavy coats and shooing us over to a nice secluded table for two. And oh happy day, he summons the waitress who brings us each a steaming cup of Glühwein. Edward scowls playfully at me as I take his too, though we both know he won't even sniff the barmaid's apron if he's driving.

By the time I've moaned my way appreciatively through both, mercifully small, cups he's making a point of studying the menu intently and pretending to ignore me.

I pick up my own menu, smirking behind it because I know what he's going to order, Esteban's chef is German and Edward has the Wiener schnitzel _every_ time we come here . . . .

...

"No seriously, Mom thought I was going to be a concert pianist." He laughs. "It was the long fingers and the fact that I was the only one of us who wasn't tone deaf."

"You were always playing one instrument or another." I remember.

"I like music." He chuckles. "I just grew out of Mom's faith that I was going to be the next big thing before she did."

"Renee dreamed I was going to be a prima ballerina."

I narrow my eyes at him before he can laugh.

"I bet you look very fetching in a tutu." He manages eventually.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I simper, batting my eyelashes at him. "I'm surprisingly flexible for a klutz."

"I had noticed." He purrs, waggling his eyebrows at me.

Esteban breaks into our laughter to see what we want for dessert.

"She'll have banoffee pie with a mountain of whipped cream." Edward orders.

"And he'll have apple pie and ice cream." I add.

"Bueno!"

...

Esteban fussed around us as we bundled up to make the dash through the still falling snow to the car, sending us off with a flask of Glühwein and a box of mince pies. Edward had to steady me as I tottered across the parking lot in my unsuitable high heels and I cursed Rose and her 'it's a date not a nature hike' comment.

We had to wait for the heater to clear the car windows before we could leave and the ease from the restaurant slowly leaked into the frigid air. Or at least mine did because I am on a date. With Edward. This is not just us being us, this is us being _deliberately_ us.

Great, I'm nervous again, my inner voice is incoherent and that weird feeling is back in my stomach.

Nevertheless I cast a sideways look at him. He's concentrating on the road but even with his lips pursed and his brow slightly furrowed he's an incoherence makingly attractive man. If this is a date, does that mean he's going to kiss me? The idea makes my weird stomach curl in anticipation and fear. Edward and I have always been affectionate, comfortable in each other's personal space, we're holding hands now, even though he should be using both to steer the car which is losing traction from time to time in the snow. I should probably give him his hand back so he can use it but instead I squeeze it unthinkingly and he turns his head, briefly giving me the full on effect of that crooked smile . . . .

"Shit!"

Edward snatches his hand back but it's too late, the heavy car has started to slide as he turned it into the driveway and it isn't going to stop. Very slowly, majestically even, we glide into the snow covered lump that looms up in front of us, which teeters for a moment and then gives way allowing the front of the car to drop down with an ominous thump.

"Oh shit." Edward groans, switching off the engine and running his hand through his hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I snicker. "And oh shit is right, you've just totalled one of your Mom's stone lions _and_ run your Dad's car into the ditch."

"Shit." He repeats. "I'm so going to get grounded for this."

I can't help it, I start laughing properly. I'm not sure if it's the crestfallen expression on Edward's face or the idea of Carlisle grounding his thirty year old son for paying more attention to his date than his driving.

"I don't know why you're laughing." Edward chuckles beside me. "We're going have to walk the rest of the way."

Oh shit, my five hundred dollar shoes!

The icy air hits me as Edward opens his door and comes round to mine, both of us still laughing though mine cuts off abruptly when I take his hand to step out of the car and my foot disappears in snow up to the ankle.

"Ew!" I squeal, yanking it out. "Cold and wet!"

"Alright." He sighs with exaggerated patience. "I am nothing if not gentlemanly. Climb up spider monkey."

And he flashes me that crooked smile before turning to present me with his broad back.

For a nanosecond I'm torn between asserting my womanly independence and my loathing of cold wet things. And then I use my boasted flexibility to twist out of the car and launch myself at his back. He staggers for a moment, both of us laughing again, and then he manages to catch my failing legs and fold them round his waist as my arms fasten securely and round his neck.

"Ready?" He asks, using his foot to slam to car door behind us.

"Ready."

It's so quiet and still, the only sound the crunch of his footsteps and the only illumination that weird light you get from the moon on snow. Even though I know we'll see the lights of the house as soon as we round the bend in the drive, for the time being at least, it feels like we're the only two people in the world. I quite like it . . . .

His steps begin to slow.

"Are you okay?" I whisper in his ear, feeling guilty for letting him carry me.

"More than, there's just something I need to do before we get back to the house though."

"There is?" I ask in surprise.

"There is. Give me a second, it's around here somewhere . . . . Ah!"

Recognising the snow covered mound beneath me as one of the rocks that line the drive I release his neck and slither down his back onto it, wobbling for a moment before I find my footing.

"That's better." He sighs, turning to face me.

"I'm sorry, I can walk the rest of the . . . ."

A long finger is suddenly pressed to my lips.

"That's not why I stopped."

"Oh."

He's close enough for his warm coffee scented breath to bathe my face.

"Thank you for coming to dinner with me tonight." He murmurs, removing his finger.

Normally I'd make some wise crack about never turning down a meal at Esteban's but for some reason I'm not remotely tempted.

"Thank you for taking me."

There are snowflakes in his hair and on his eye lashes, he's never looked so beautiful.

"I want to kiss you."

Bereft of words to form a response I hitch in a breath as he moves closer to me, hands reaching up to cup my face.

"_Bella_ . . . ."

His lips are warm and soft, purposeful, yet gentle and my eyes drift closed as my body sways closer to his. All conscious thought fleeing. . . . there is only sensation . . . . pliant lips . . . . flipping in my stomach . . . . the subtle sting of melting snowflakes on exposed skin . . . . a perfect moment.

He hums as our mouths break apart, both of us breathing far too heavily for such an innocuous kiss and I can't help the shudder that runs through me.

"I'm sorry." He says, immediately contrite. "Its cold, let's get back to the house."

This time he sweeps me up bridal style and I just close my eyes and go with it, my forehead warmed by the skin of his neck.

Unable to open the door with his arms full he kicks it a couple of times until someone gets the message.

"Bella!" Esme gasps. "Edward, oh my god, what happened?"

...

Our dramatic snow covered arrival sent almost everyone else scurrying off into the night, anxious to get home while the roads were still passable. In no time at all it was just the family gathered in the den to rib Edward while he soaked his poor blue feet in hot water and smugly swigged down the Glühwein.

I wasn't surprised or perturbed to find myself sat next to him on the floor, my head resting against his knee, his free hand stroking my hair. Or that the low hum of voices sent me off to sleep . . . .

_..._

Light jostling and a change in temperature wakes up my inner grump, if not all of the rest of me.

"Oh shush." Edward chides softly. "I'm carrying you up to bed, what more do you want?"

"Cold." I grumble, clinging onto him when he tries to lower me onto the bed, I can feel the chill radiating of the sheets.

"Bella, you have to let . . . . whoa!"

He overbalances falling with me onto the bed and cursing softly, not that I mind, he's warm.

"Good night." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple as he tries to extract himself from my clutches.

"Cold." I insist, refusing to let go.

"There will be sleep humping if I stay." He warns me with a quiet laugh.

"Warm now, get told off in morning."

I'm already on the cusp of falling back to sleep as he pulls up the comforter and wraps his arms around me properly.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 26 Chaste Christmas**

**BPOV**

There was no sleep humping, the giant child that is Emmett Cullen woke up a long time before Edward and I did. There wasn't even time for me to second guess whether sleeping with him was a good idea before Em pulled us both bodily from the nice warm bed and strong armed us down the stairs to open our presents.

After that we laid waste to Esme's awesome breakfast and wrapped ourselves up to rescue Carlisle's car. Eight people armed with shovels, snow chains and a couple of lumps of two by four. Fortunately for Edward it was easy to retrieve and relatively unscathed though we all knew who would be paying for the repairs. Just like last night Edward took their insults with good grace, and just like last night he did his best to keep me by his side.

Eight people. Four couples.

No different at face value than any of our other Christmases.

But different.

...

On the first day of Christmas we cooked dinner, we got drunk, we ate dinner and after dinner we crashed out in the family room and pretended to watch movies while we all fell asleep. Edward made a cushion nest for us on the floor and I only hesitated briefly before I snuggled into it, because that's what we do every year, and things shouldn't be awkward.

After supper Edward caught me in the darkened hallway and molested me, thoroughly yet chastely with his lips, but our subsequent cuddle was interrupted by Em who was anxious to get the Christmas games going.

I felt like a teenager again.

Anxious, excited to the point of passing out, and full of longing for unnamed and indescribable things.

Of course that could have just been the alcohol but nevertheless I was the first one to call time and head up to bed.

...

On the second day of Christmas I woke up in Edward's arms being gently but insistently sleep humped.

Oh, I thought about waking him up and having him make good on the hardness pressed against me, but not in his Mother's guest room and not now.

So instead I slid out of bed and padded down to the kitchen in search of coffee.

As is our tradition we cooked dinner, we got drunk, we ate dinner and after dinner we crashed out in the family room and pretended to watch movies while we all fell asleep. Edward and I bagged a couch this time and Rose and Em were inappropriate on the floor when they thought the rest of us were asleep.

...

On the third day of Christmas I woke up in Edward's arms again. All was quiet and still until I tried to extract myself and then the sleep humping started. I finally escaped leaving him flung out, frowning and muttering incoherently.

He was so cute I forewent coffee and sat and watched him for a while.

The Cullen household comes back to life on the third day of Christmas.

We all went for a walk on the beach, Edward and I hand in hand, hanging back so he could kiss me when no one else was looking. Soft sweet kisses that thrilled me.

...

On the fourth day of Christmas I woke up to soft sweet kisses being pressed to my face.

I'd like to say that I slid out of bed like a good girl, or that I at least called time while I brushed my teeth. But I did neither of those things. I let him kiss me on the mouth and I kissed him back. Soft and sweet rapidly turned slightly more energetic because, damn, he's a good kisser. However no bases were rounded and we eventually managed to tear ourselves away from each other, breathless and laughing.

We haven't discussed where we stand with our physical relationship and for the time being I am happy to be passive and let him lead.

Am I testing him?

Maybe?

Is there a pass or fail?

No idea.

...

On the fifth day of Christmas I woke up from the throes of an intimate dream starring one Edward Anthony Cullen and nearly cashed in my 'passive' card.

Not that he seemed to mind.

Again no bases were rounded.

And I started to wonder if he was slowly and gently seducing me.

Or trying to kill me.

Carlisle went back to work. Esme went to do 'things', which I think translated as anything that got her away from the younger generation for a few hours and we, the younger generation, went into town to shop and have lunch.

...

On the sixth day of Christmas I woke up to fresh coffee as the men were up early to play snow golf.

I hid my pout when Jasper called him downstairs but I started to wonder if too much uninterrupted Edward time was going to be bad for me, us. I'm pretty sure Edward isn't going to want a needy clingy girlfriend and I'm just as sure I don't want to be one.

God, but there are a number of ways this could get complicated . . . .

...

On the seventh day of Christmas I woke up to a good solid sleep hug.

I can already hear Em blundering around downstairs, excited about setting up the fireworks for tonight's New Years Eve party, and I know he'll be up here to rouse us from our pit any minute.

"EDWARD! BELLA! Up an' at 'em love birds, we've got shit to do!"

"Language Emmett!"

"Sorry Ma."

Edward stirs behind me, tightening his hold on me as he burrows his face into my bed hair.

"I don't suppose there's any chance a small localised black hole might blink him out of existence?" He murmurs sleepily.

"EDWARD! You lazy douche bag. Don't make me come up there!"

"Apparently not." I drawl.

"Edward!" Esme calls up the stairs. "Get up, your brother is giving me a headache!"

"Yeah Mom . . . . coming!"

"You'd better not be little bro . . . ."

"Emmett Mac Cullen!" Esme again. "I have a skillet in here with your name on it."

"We'd better get up." Edward sighs, rolling his hips into me, just the once.

...

Everyone has a job to do to get ready for the party, even me, but though I have been designated 'kitchen elf' I am not, for obvious reasons, allowed to even attempt to use my own initiative. I'm not offended since they've given me every chance to show some sign of culinary talent over the years, lovely people that they are, before finally recognising that I have none. I am, however, shit hot at washing up and following detailed instructions. I am also 'chief taster' a role which Em covets but cannot fulfil with quite the same 'je ne sais quoi'. Or as Rose puts it, without getting a fat ass.

At three Esme declares us ready and shooed us all off to beautify ourselves for the party, always a black tie affair.

I told myself I didn't know if I was going to stay for New Year, probably wasn't, but I'd packed an 'Edward Blue' cocktail dress just in case.

I don't know why I was so nervous about it, I just, was . . . . it was another new thing I suppose . . . .

...

Alice, Rose and I got ready together.

Laughing, drinking and taking turns with each other's hair and makeup until the guests started arriving.

...

The party's gone from dull roar to cacophony of noise fairly quickly. And it's brilliant. I know most of these people, actually like quite a few of them and not one of them wants to 'network' or be photographed with me. Jake loved the glitz and glamour of a New York party but I much prefer this. Even if I've barely seen Edward all night. He's haunting me I think, flitting here and there on the periphery of my vision, his laughter or voice occasionally reaching my ears.

At one point we pass each other while engaged in our hosting duties and he snatches a brief kiss and feels up my ass before being spun away by the heaving crowd.

Stupid how it makes me grin from ear to ear.

I can't remember the last time I actually had a drink but colors are brighter and people generally funnier so I must have managed to fit in a few, I think. What I am right now is ravenously hungry and not as focussed on the conversation I'm part of as I should be. _Food_, I need food . . . .

A heaped plate of it appears in front of me.

"Can I steal her for a moment?" Edward purrs, drawing me away before anyone can answer.

"Quick." He urges. "Get your coat on, the only place to eat safely is the deck . . . ."

...

"Cyggers!" Em greets as we push our way outside. "Come join the oppressed minority."

He and Rose are also bundled up against the cold, leaning against the railing with their own heaped plates.

"Eat while you can." Rose advises, preparing to pop a Vol-Au-Vent in her mouth. "Oberführer Carlisle will be wanting to start handing out the champagne in a minute."

Edward laughs at the expression on my face

"Trust me." He chuckles. "This is the party in the year when family takes a back seat to being a good host. Let's eat while we still can."

Edward and I have barely tackled half the plate, though it was a big plate, before Pa Cullen finds us.

"What are you doing out here? Come on, we need to get the champagne circulated before we start the fireworks. We're on a deadline here people and your Mother is having a conniption . . . ."

...

A whirlwind of activity later and I'm stood on the beach with Edward's arm round my waist, waiting for Em to unleash his master creation on the shouting crowd.

"TEN, NINE . . . ."

I've done this countdown before, of course I have.

"EIGHT, SEVEN . . . ."

Just never _with_ someone.

"SIX, FIVE . . . ."

Edward's arm is drawing me closer and closer.

"FOUR, THREE . . . ."

Turning me.

"TWO, ONE . . . . HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The sky is alight with color and noise but for me there is only Edward.

Wrapped around me. Kissing me. He obliterates everything else. His cologne. The taste of whiskey on him. The intoxicating scrape of his five o'clock shadow on my skin. His warm firm tongue, caressing my mouth with deep needy strokes. My cold fingers, no gloves, twist into his equally cold hair, no hat. Congratulatory hands rain down on our backs, unheeded felicitations for a happy and prosperous New Year.

Edward's large hands are easily covering my winter coat padded shoulder blades, holding me tight, lifting my mouth to be devoured by his.

There is nothing chaste about this kiss but neither is there more than a promise of sexuality about it. I feel like he's talking to me, telling me something, something I ought to hear . . . . want to know . . . .

I don't know if he pulls back first or I do. All I know is that I've gone from kissing him to gasping against his chest, relaxed, weak kneed, in his arms.

Fuck.

I love him.

Crazy, _stupid_, love . . . .


End file.
